


Gospel for the Vagabonds

by Kapua



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: AU, F/F, Wild West AU, and she corrupts yennefer, in all the best ways, tissaia is a bandit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kapua/pseuds/Kapua
Summary: "After the first raid, Yennefer has mostly resigned herself to never seeing Tissaia again. The likelihood of the bandits returning to hit the same town twice seems slim, and there is no other reason why she would cross paths with the other woman.That's what makes it all the more surprising when she opens the door to her room one evening and finds the brunette sprawled across the chair in the corner. She's dressed in a white button down and a tan leather jacket with the sleeves cuffed to the elbows, and well-tailored dark pants show off the slender line of her legs. Her hair is knotted at the nape of her neck, her face is bare of any adornment, and the top three buttons of her shirt are undone, revealing a delicious expanse of smooth skin."AKA the WildWest!AU featuring bandit!Tissaia and her efforts to corrupt poor innocent Yennefer...or something like that.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 155
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NovakFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovakFan/gifts).



> Done for a prompt by NovakFan: WildWest!AU with bandit Tissaia. Because who doesn't want to imagine Tissaia as a smoking hot gunslinger??
> 
> ***AND NOW FEATURING GORGEOUS COVER ART FROM xxTORCHxx. Seriously stunning. And now you all can have a lovely mental image of Bandit!Tissaia to feast your eyes upon!

Yennefer coughs as the dust on the train platform clears.

A quick glance around reveals a small town that looks like the other fifty she passed through on her journey here—wooden buildings, one or two made of nicer stone, and a dirt road running through the center of it all. Pedestrians walk down the street, ducking in and out of the various run-down shops, and Yennefer sighs. She knows that this is the best place to be while recovering from tuberculosis, but she can't help wishing that the supposed wild west had at least a little bit more going for it.

She asks one of the people milling about if they know where the inn she's supposed to stay is, and they point her in the right direction. Her trunk will be delivered separately, so Yennefer sets off to see what kind of accommodations she's going to be stuck with.

The inn isn't anything special, but it's not the shabbiest place on the strip so she figures she'll consider herself lucky. The man that takes down her information and trades her a room key for her payment looks bored out of his skull, and she hopes she won't end up feeling similarly while she's stuck here.

She holds her breath when she opens the door to her room. There's a good-sized bed and a window, which is an unexpected surprise, and a small dresser and writing desk in the corner. It's not like the apartment she had back on the east coast, but it will do until she’s well enough to go back.

Yennefer peers through the layer of grime on the window and observes the street below. It’s not the main street, just a small offshoot, but she can still see a few people wandering around. She's on the second story, which gives her a decent view of the town—not that there's much to see beyond what she already saw on her short walk from the train station to the inn. She groans and throws herself down on the lumpy mattress. Her lungs ache from the minimal exertion of her walk, and she curses her luck once again. 

It's silly and a little childish to be so irritated by it. She knows she should be thankful that she's only got a mild case, and that she has the money to afford to come recuperate in the dry western air. Most people are not so fortunate. But she still yearns for the bustle of the big city, for the vibrant social life and the various people who were always willing to get into mischief with her. She is already longing for the day her lungs feel sufficiently recovered for her to board a train going back to the eastern coast and her life there.

From what she can see, the people in the street all look just as boring as the man at the front desk. She shakes her head and tells herself not to be so quick to judge. She hasn't even been in town for an hour yet, and there are sure to be at least _some_ interesting people here. It's simply a matter of finding them. With that thought in mind, Yennefer closes her eyes. She'll take a nap, and when she wakes she can set out in search of whatever pathetic excuse for entertainment this sleepy town can offer.

###

It takes a full week before anything interesting finally happens. Yennefer spent the first few days combing every inch of the town for anything to take the edge off her boredom before eventually giving up. The saloon was the only place where it seemed like people did anything besides lead boring, mundane lives, and ladies weren't exactly welcome there—especially not ladies with tuberculosis. 

She's resigned herself to dying of boredom long before her lungs ever give out when it happens. It's just before dusk, and a commotion erupts outside her window. Yennefer debates whether it's even worth dragging herself out of bed to investigate—based on what she knows of this stupid town, it's more likely that someone's chicken got out and spooked a horse than anything _actually_ interesting happening.

But she's curious by nature, and when she gets to the window her mouth drops open in a little "o" of surprise. The street is in absolute chaos below her. There are a few small fires burning, and it's hard to tell through the smoke, but she thinks she sees a few people riding through the town on horseback. She can hear people screaming and shouting, and occasional bursts of gunfire punctuate the scene.

Yennefer has half a mind to go downstairs to get a closer look at what's going on, and after only a moment's hesitation she decides to hell with it, she'd rather die getting shot in a street brawl than withering away day by day in her bed with nothing to do.

When she gets down to the lobby, the man at the front desk is leaning back with his feet propped up on the counter and a shotgun across his lap.

"You'd best stay in here," he says with a pointed look. "They'll be clearing out soon enough."

"What's going on?" Yennefer asks, still trying to make out exactly what's happening on the street outside.

"Bandits," he replies grimly. "They come through every so often, until the Brotherhood chases 'em out of town again."

Yennefer's eyebrow raises. Bandits? In this sleepy little town? It seems absurd, but she's not entirely upset about the idea. At least then there would be something _happening_ for once.

She heads for the door and ignores the man's spluttering protests behind her. The sun has dipped fully below the horizon now, leaving the street dark other than the light of the fires burning along the thoroughfare. It makes for an eerie setting with the flames visible through the thick black smoke, and Yennefer moves forward cautiously. 

There aren't many people on the street now. She can still hear the clatter of hooves and an occasional shout or exchange of gunfire, and she slowly walks further into the smoke.

The only warning she gets is a shout behind her and then she's flying through the air as gunshots erupt from in front of her. Yennefer hits the ground hard and someone lands on top of her, keeping her pressed flat for a few seconds. She pushes them off and grunts when they shove her back down.

"They'll shoot if they see you. Stay down until I say."

The voice is...decidedly feminine. Which is not at all what Yennefer is expecting. She twists to try to get a look at the person on top of her and manages a brief glimpse of brunette hair and blue eyes that seem to spark in the firelight before her head is pushed none-too-gently back down and a bullet pings off the ground nearby.

"Stupid girl," the woman hisses. "Are you trying to get us both killed?"

Yennefer relents and stops moving. There's another shout from the direction the bullets came from, but it's abruptly cut short and she wonders if the person is dead or just incapacitated. 

Someone on horseback—another woman, Yennefer realizes, and what the hell is happening that there are apparently multiple women involved in a shootout—rides out of the smoke and pulls up short when she spots Yennefer.

"Tissaia! We're done here, the others are already out!"

The woman holding her on the ground—Tissaia, apparently—rolls off of her in a fluid motion and nods. Yennefer scrambles to her feet and stares after her as she swings up behind the woman on horseback.

"I'd recommend getting indoors," Tissaia says to her. "I'd hate for that pretty face to get marred by a stray bullet." The edges of her lips curl into a faint smirk as she looks at Yennefer.

It's irrational, the flush that creeps up Yennefer's face at Tissaia's words. She doesn't know this woman at all, and from the look of things she's not exactly an upstanding citizen. But standing there in the middle of the street she doesn't care about any of that. 

The only thing that her brain can focus on is how the woman who was on top of her mere moments ago is _stunning_. Like, mind-blowingly gorgeous. Piercing blue eyes, delicate cheekbones, and thin lips are framed by a few errant wisps of hair that have come loose from where they're tied at the base of the woman's neck.

The horse wheels and takes off at a gallop, and Yennefer is left standing in the street and wondering what the hell just happened.

###

It's another week before she sees Tissaia again. During that time, not one but _three_ members of the Brotherhood of Sheriffs come to talk with her. The Brotherhood is responsible for maintaining law and order across the whole region, and she quickly gathers that they view the bandits as the greatest threat to have ever graced their jurisdiction. 

All of the sheriffs say more or less the same thing: Tissaia is dangerous, Yennefer is lucky to have escaped with her life, and if the bandits ever come through on another raid she should avoid them at all costs. It's a very logical argument. After all, Yennefer saw the destruction the women left in their wake. But she's still intrigued. Because in between lectures from the Brotherhood, she manages to glean a few other bits of information. 

First, while talking to Sheriff Carduin, she learns that the bandits are all women. Besides the two that Yennefer saw, there are just a handful of others. Based on what she's pieced together, though, their small numbers don't prevent the bandits from wreaking havoc across the region. Carduin speaks of them as if the women are single-handedly responsible for any and all economic difficulty in the area. Yennefer can't quite tell if he's being serious, but she figures it's a safe enough assumption that the bandits are at least moderately capable.

Second, from Sheriff Vilgefortz, Yennefer starts to understand the bandits' methods. Apparently they frequently target wagon caravans and trains, stealing supplies and other valuables. Yennefer asks why they would come through the town since it practically guarantees confrontation with the Brotherhood, and Vilgefortz shrugs. He mutters something about the bandits doing it purely for show, but it still doesn't make sense to Yennefer. She knows when to stop pushing, though, and lets the matter rest.

Sheriff Stregobor is the final member of the Brotherhood who comes to speak with Yennefer. Unlike Carduin and Vilgefortz, he doesn't seem eager to talk. He spends several minutes just watching Yennefer, and she gets the distinct impression that he's sizing her up in some way. Finally, he asks her what she thought of Tissaia. 

She's not eager to talk to Stregobor. Something about him doesn't sit right with her. But she also knows it would be silly to make an enemy of him, and so she tells him that she thought Tissaia seemed fine enough, seeing as how the woman saved her from getting shot. It's a cheeky answer that earns her a deep scowl. Stregobor wags a chastising finger at her and tells her not to lose sight of the fact that Tissaia is dangerous, and a killer. 

Yennefer thinks to herself that Tissaia is clearly not an indiscriminate killer, which seems like a somewhat redeeming characteristic, but she decides not to voice that particular thought aloud. Stregobor glares at her and tells her to watch herself or she's liable to end up dead—or worse, roped into whatever evil plot Tissaia decides to conjure up next.

It's all a bit dramatic for her tastes, which is saying something. She's never been opposed to a healthy dose of drama, but she just can't quite reconcile the supposedly bloodthirsty image of Tissaia that the Brotherhood paints with the woman who saved her. 

In between Stregobor's rants about Tissaia (and he doesn't even mention the other bandits; he seems to have a particular fixation on Tissaia alone), Yennefer gleans that Tissaia is the de facto leader of the bandits. It matches what she'd seen of the woman; even laying on the ground Tissaia had seemed more like the type to give orders than take them.

And so Yennefer is left to ponder the myriad questions she has. Like how a group of women all end up as bandits, or why Tissaia saved her in the first place. And whether the other woman had meant anything with her final comment about Yennefer having a pretty face. It had come across as more than a little flirtatious, and Yennefer isn't quite sure whether she wants it to have been intentional. On the one hand Tissaia is stunning, and clearly brilliant if she's managed to give the Brotherhood this much of a headache.

On the other hand, she's still a criminal. And Yennefer has always liked to live on the edge, but that doesn't mean she wants to throw her lot in with a murderer. Not that she believes all of Stregobor's moaning about Tissaia being some sort of devil, but still. The fact remains that the woman was likely responsible for the firefight in the street, and it's a miracle that nobody was killed. Chaos is fine and dandy, but killing for no good reason is a bit much even for Yennefer.

She tries to convince herself that it's a moot point to even spend this much time and energy thinking about the other woman, but it's not like she has anything better to do. Her lungs feel better every day, and there remain precious few options for entertainment. The rest of the town seems determined to be as boring as possible. So she thinks that maybe she can be forgiven for her borderline-obsessive contemplation of Tissaia. 

And if some of her contemplation revolves around the way the woman's white button down had clung to her small frame, highlighting the curve of her breasts, or how she'd been able to feel Tissaia's breath whisper across the back of her neck while she was pinned to the ground...well, she figures those thoughts are only for her, and what everyone else doesn't know won't hurt them.

Still, she has mostly resigned herself to never seeing Tissaia again. The likelihood of the bandits returning to hit the same town twice seems slim, and there is no other reason why she would cross paths with the other woman.

That's what makes it all the more surprising when she opens the door to her room one evening and finds the brunette sprawled across the chair in the corner. She's dressed in a white button down and a tan leather jacket with the sleeves cuffed to the elbows, and well-tailored dark pants show off the slender line of her legs. Her hair is knotted at the nape of her neck, her face is bare of any adornment, and the top three buttons of her shirt are undone, revealing a delicious expanse of smooth skin. 

It's so foreign to see a woman wearing pants, much less wearing pants and looking absolutely _sinful_ while doing so, that Yennefer's mind goes blank for a few moments. When she finally comes to her senses, she closes the door behind her with a little too much force.

"About time. I was beginning to think you would never come back."

The words are said in a voice that somehow manages to be simultaneously clipped and also drawling. It does things to Yennefer, and she swallows hard, trying to regain her footing.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses, crossing her arms a little defensively. Tissaia watches her with an arched eyebrow.

"I thought that would be obvious, darling. I came to visit you."

The statement throws Yennefer off balance, and she scrambles to figure out how to respond. Too many questions are whirling through her mind. Things like:

_Is she going to harm me?_

And:

_Why on earth would she want to visit me?_

But perhaps most prominent of all:

_God, she looks stunning._

It's objectively true. Now that there's not a layer of dust and blood covering Tissaia's face, Yennefer can see just how beautiful the woman truly is. It steals the breath from her lungs, and it's making it very hard to focus.

With a herculean effort, Yennefer tears her eyes away from Tissaia and steps further into the room, busying herself with rearranging the little knick knacks that sit on top of her dresser. It's mostly just a tactic to give her something to do with her hands as she tries to ignore the way she can see a knowing smirk curl the edges of Tissaia's mouth in her peripheral vision.

"How did you even get in here?" It seems like a safe enough question, and Yennefer is genuinely curious.

"Climbed." 

The response is accompanied by a casual half-shrug, and Yennefer gives up on pretending to organize the dresser to turn to face Tissaia incredulously.

"You _climbed_? Why on earth would you do that?"

Tissaia looks at her patiently, like Yennefer is a tiny child unable to follow the logical flow of conversation.

"To visit you," she says with a sigh. "I thought we'd already established that."

"Why?"

Yennefer doesn't mean the question to come across as self-deprecating. She knows that she's easy on the eyes and desirable. But she thinks that Tissaia could easily have her choice of beautiful women—oversees a whole gang of them, as it happens—and Yennefer wants to know why the other woman is putting so much effort into this.

Tissaia doesn't seem ruffled by the question, shifting in the chair in a way that gives Yennefer a better view of the hint of cleavage that's barely visible. Yennefer licks her lips and idly wonders what it would look like if another button was undone. 

"I find you...interesting."

Tissaia's response brings her out of her thoughts, and Yennefer looks at her in confusion. 

"How so?"

"Not many people would run out _into_ a gunfight," Tissaia says. "Much less keep trying to get a better view of the bullets."

Yennefer rolls her eyes, irritation momentarily overriding her attraction. "First, I did not run into a gunfight. I just wanted to see what was happening since I'd begun to wonder if anything of interest would ever occur in this godforsaken town. Second, I wasn't trying to get a better view of the bullets. I was trying to get a better view of the person that tackled me to the ground."

Tissaia chuckles. "If you're trying to convince me you're boring and I shouldn't be here, you're doing a miserable job of it."

The woman stands up, and Yennefer is struck by how _small_ she is. Her personality and the way she projects utter confidence and control makes her seem larger than life, but now that she's standing a few feet away Yennefer can see that Tissaia is several inches shorter than her. It's strangely endearing, and it somehow makes the other woman feel more human. 

Tissaia moves closer until her arm is brushing against Yennefer's. Yennefer catches a faint whiff of something floral—maybe perfume, or if there's something that Tissaia puts in her hair—and it smells absolutely divine. Tissaia's fingers idly trace the bottles on the dresser as she looks at them thoughtfully.

"Expensive taste," she comments, picking up the bottle that holds Yennefer's perfume. It's nearly empty, and Yennefer has been trying not to mope about how she'll possibly manage to get more of it all the way out here.

When she doesn't get a response, Tissaia sets the bottle back down with a gentle _clink_. 

"Come with me."

Yennefer scoffs, pointedly ignoring the way her heart races a little bit faster at the thought of Tissaia even asking.

"I'm not going to drop everything to run off with a band of criminals," Yennefer says, forcing herself to take a step back and put some space between them. She doesn't miss the way that Tissaia's gaze track her movement or how those blue eyes seem to flicker with a hint of amusement.

"Were you not just complaining about living a life of boredom stuck in this town?" Tissaia asks. "Come with me and I can promise that you'll never again have to worry about that."

"Yes, but I'll instead have to worry about the bullets that seem to follow you wherever you go, if what I hear from the Brotherhood is any indication."

Tissaia's face darkens at the mention of the Brotherhood, and she shakes her head. "You would do well to be wary of the Brotherhood, Yennefer."

Yennefer frowns. She doesn't remember ever telling the woman her name, but she sets that aside in favor of the conversation topic at hand.

"And why is that? Because they're the only ones trying to stop your reign of terror?"

A sharp bark of laughter escapes Tissaia. "Reign of terror? Is that what they're calling it now? Goodness, they've got active imaginations."

"What would _you_ call it?" Yennefer asks, and Tissaia throws her a look.

"Redistribution of inequitable resources," she says with a smirk, and Yennefer sighs. Part of her wants to laugh, but she has a sneaking suspicion that if she gives Tissaia even the slightest encouragement the woman will run with it. 

"Regardless of what fancy name you call it by, I still want no part of it."

"Pity," Tissaia murmurs, and Yennefer freezes when a gloved hand comes up to brush against her cheek. "You really would make a stunning bandit."

Yennefer swallows hard and tries to remind herself that there are _very good reasons_ why she shouldn't just do what Tissaia is suggesting. She's come out west to recover, nothing more. There's no life for her here. All she needs to do is regain her health and then she can return to her bustling city back east and all of the accompanying luxuries it provides. Getting involved with a group of bandits is not at all helpful with regards to any of that...no matter how attractive she finds Tissaia.

The hand falls away from her face after a moment, and Yennefer instantly misses it. 

"Should you ever change your mind, if you head due west towards the mountains you'll be able to find us."

"And you're not worried I'm going to run straight to the Brotherhood with this information?"

Tissaia shrugs. "No. If you wanted me captured you would have screamed as soon as you saw me, rather than coming in and striking up conversation. But if you did anything foolish, we have our ways of ensuring no unwanted visitors stumble across us."

Yennefer tries to think of what to say to that, but Tissaia steps back and gives her a final half-smile before she's out the window. 

By the time Yennefer makes it to the window and looks down, all she sees is a shadowy figure on a horse riding away. 

She throws herself back on her bed with a groan. There's no way she can pretend that she's not absolutely captivated by Tissaia now. Her mind was already filled with thoughts of the other woman, and she doesn't think that's going to change any time soon. Not after seeing her again, being close enough to feel the heat of her body and see the different shades of blue in her eyes.

No, Yennefer thinks as she closes her eyes. She imagines Tissaia is going to feature rather prominently in both her waking thoughts and her dreams from here on out.

###

The next few weeks are quiet. Yennefer is bored out of her mind and more than once she contemplates saying _fuck it_ and heading out to the mountains to look for Tissaia.

Her pride prevents her from doing that, but it doesn't manage to keep her from wishing every time she opens the door to her room that she'll see Tissaia waiting for her again. 

It never happens. Tissaia remains frustratingly absent, and the closest Yennefer gets is the whispers and rumors swirling outside the saloon about the bandits raiding multiple trains.

She's almost convinced herself that she imagined Tissaia, or that the other woman has decided she's not so interesting after all, when it happens. She comes back to her room after running errands for the day—mailing a few letters to friends back east, browsing the general store, and trying to get any new gossip about the wider world.

It takes her a few minutes to notice what's changed in her room. She takes off her overcoat and drapes it over the back of the chair and tugs off her shoes. She's just about to start undoing the laces on her dress when she finally sees it: an unfamiliar bottle sitting on her dresser.

Yennefer grabs it and then looks around the room as if she'll be able to spot who left it. When she's satisfied that she's truly alone in her room (she will deny it if anyone asks, but she even checks under the bed just to be safe), she examines the bottle more closely.

There's no label on the outside, and she cautiously uncorks it. As soon as she does, a familiar scent wafts into her nose—lilac and gooseberries, the exact undertones of the perfume she favors. 

She scans the dresser but doesn't see any other indication of who might have brought her such a gift. But if she's honest, she already knows. It could only be Tissaia. The woman had seen her perfume, even commented on it. She's the one person who would know this about Yennefer—and she's already proved more than capable of sneaking into the room without being noticed.

Yennefer takes a few drops of the perfume and dabs it on her wrist and neck, letting the smell envelope her. It warms her to imagine Tissaia specifically searching out this scent for her—likely while raiding a train or wagon, but still. The sentiment is sweet, in its own way, and Yennefer has always been a sucker for gestures like this.

She carefully recorks the bottle and sets it back on the dresser before reclining on the bed. She'll have to think of how best to give Tissaia a proper thank you the next time she sees her. After all, it would be rude to let such a generous gift go unacknowledged.

An assortment of increasingly inventive options flicker across the back of her eyelids, and Yennefer smiles as they begin to involve less and less clothing with each iteration. If nothing else, this will give her a new way to occupy herself until she sees Tissaia next—and with any luck, their next meeting won't require her to wait long at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the chapters for this one might be shorter, but then I was writing this and the next thing I know it's over 6k again. So I guess long chapters it is lol.
> 
> Thanks again to xxTORCHxx for the gorgeous cover art! Feast your eyes on bandit Tissaia and enjoy a chapter with mild angst and lots of your favorite ladies :)

Yennefer spends the following weeks keeping an abnormally close eye on her bedroom window. She knows it's irrational to hope that Tissaia will climb through it out of the blue, but that doesn't stop her from continuing to watch.

There's been no sign of the bandits since the last raid. Whispers pass from person to person about whether the group has finally moved on to fresh territory, but Yennefer doesn't think that's the case. In spite of how little she really knows about Tissaia and the others, she doubts that Tissaia would leave without at least saying goodbye.

The Brotherhood have been busy in the bandits' absence. When she walks past the small building that serves double duty as the town jail and the Brotherhood's base of operations, she notices an unusually large pile of guns just past the door. When Stregobor catches her looking, he closes the door after sending her a dark look. She doesn't think he'll ever trust her after she refused to demonize Tissaia based solely on his say-so.

It feels like something is brewing in the air as the hot summer winds down, the days growing shorter and the breeze developing a bit of a bite. Yennefer is no stranger to cold winters—they have those back on the east coast, thank you very much—but it feels different out here. The morning that she wakes up to find a light frost coating the world outside her window, she wishes for a brief moment that she had someone to curl up in bed with, hiding under the warmth of the coverlet until Spring returns.

She feels the absence of Tissaia keenly, which seems silly since she's only seen the woman twice—and one of those encounters probably doesn't even count since it was so brief and mostly involved Tissaia trying to keep her from getting shot. But somehow, the woman has managed to make enough of an impression that Yennefer finds herself dreaming of her even during her waking hours. 

The memory of how good Tissaia had looked in the moonlight is still enough to make Yennefer's heart do a quick flip, and sometimes, when she's alone in her bed and unable to find sleep, she lets herself imagine what might have happened if she'd kissed the other woman. She thinks that Tissaia would have let her—might even have encouraged her, or perhaps taken things a step further.

Thinking about what it would be like to have Tissaia's lips on her, hands slipping beneath her clothes, is enough to make Yennefer tremble. On more than one night, when her imagination gets a little _too_ active, she gives in and her hand steals between her legs, rubbing quickly until she comes with a strangled cry. 

It's never enough. Her own hand can't compare to what it would be like to have Tissaia touch her, but it's all she's got since the other woman has apparently disappeared from the face of the earth. (Not that Yennefer is bitter about it. At all.)

She's not a patient person by nature, and being forced to wait around until Tissaia appears again is bordering on torture. Yennefer knows she could theoretically just get up and head for the mountains (her lungs are more or less recovered at this point, and the hike out of town is no longer a sufficient deterrent on its own), but part of her also wants to see what Tissaia will do next.

When their encounter finally happens, however, Yennefer finds herself wishing that she had gone to the mountains after all.

It begins late in the afternoon. Yennefer hears a commotion in the street and is immediately pressed against the window, peering down to see whether it might be Tissaia.

There is no sign of the woman, but Yennefer's heart clenches when she sees Vilgefortz dragging another of the bandits into the Brotherhood building. From a distance she can't be sure, but it looks like the same woman who Tissaia rode off with that first night.

Yennefer goes for a casual stroll that just so happens to take her past the back of the jail. She can't see anything through the windows in spite of her best efforts—the Brotherhood have hung sheets to serve as makeshift curtains, effectively cutting off all visuals. 

The sheets can't do anything to mask the noise coming from inside the building, though. Yennefer hears shouts and the unmistakable sound of someone being struck, and anger flares in her belly. No matter what the bandits are accused of, there is no justification for resorting to physical violence against someone who has been captured. 

She can't think of what to do right away. If it comes down to her going up against the Brotherhood she knows that she won't last longer than sixty seconds; they've got weapons and strength of number and she's got nothing but righteous indignation and a desire to help.

Her feet carry her on a meandering loop around town as she mulls over ways to intervene without getting herself thrown in jail—or shot. The basics of a plan begin to form in her mind about the time she passes the Brotherhood building for the third time. 

First, she'll need a distraction to get the sheriffs out of the building. She thinks that should be easy enough—there are several animal pens in the area, and she's heard more than a few complaints about how terrible the hogs have been smelling lately. Makeshift ammunition gathered from the bottom of the hog pens and dropped through the windows should hopefully encourage the building to clear out—and with any luck, they'll leave the bandit unattended inside.

After that...well, she hasn't thought that far ahead yet. She won't know what her options are until she's able to get into the building, so she figures it's good enough to start there and sort the rest out later.

She manages to commandeer an empty pail and a feed scoop on her next lap around town as she heads for the pig pens. Her nose wrinkles as the pungent smell gets stronger, and she tries not to breathe as she shoves an arm through the fence and scoops some of the bedding and muck into the pail.

Her eyes are watering by the time she's got the pail halfway full, and she decides that she's got enough. She has to force herself to leave the area at a steady walk rather than at a dead run, and the smell dissipates just enough that she can breathe without feeling like she's about to vomit. The pail bounces against her leg as she makes her way back to the Brotherhood building and she grins as she imagines just how bad it's going to stink when she drops the pail's contents into the building. If this is how bad it smells out here in the open air, being in an enclosed space is liable to make it nigh unbearable.

She can still hear the sound of voices inside the building when she gets there, and she creeps around to the back. There are four windows low enough to the ground that she can access them, and she starts at one end and works her way down. She fills the scoop with much and then carefully lifts it through each window, holding her breath as she lets the contents fall to the ground inside the building.

It doesn't take long for her to hear coughing and gagging start up. 

"What's that stench?!"

She smirks when she recognizes Stregobor's voice, and moments later she hears the sound of the front door being thrown open and footsteps pounding out of the building.

Yennefer crouches below the window and listens for a few more seconds to make sure that nobody has stayed behind before lifting herself up and over the ledge. She drops to the floor and swallows back the bile that rises in her throat at how bad it smells inside the small room. There are more important things to worry about now.

She scans the room and spots the bandit curled in the corner, wrists bound to the leg of a nearby table. Curly brown hair covers her face, but when Yennefer steps closer the woman's head snaps around to look at her. It's obvious the Brotherhood has done a number on her—a split lip, fresh bruising down the side of her cheek, and a trickle of blood running down her nose speak to what she's gone through at their hands. 

"It's you."

Yennefer pauses and looks at her in confusion. "It's...me?"

The woman arches a brow, and she seems remarkably unruffled by the fact that she's just spent several hours on the receiving end of the Brotherhood's version of justice. "The one that's had Tissaia so distracted lately."

She says it so casually that it takes Yennefer a moment to process what she's talking about, but when she does it feels like a swarm of butterflies have taken off in her chest. It's gratifying to know that Tissaia has been distracted as well, but she forces herself to focus on the situation at hand. The Brotherhood won't stay outside forever, and she doesn't want to be here when they come back.

"What's your name?" she asks, kneeling beside the woman and turning her attention to the knots in the rope.

"Triss." 

The knots are too tight to pull free with her fingers and Yennefer looks around. There's a knife on the ground by the door and she leans over to grab it before carefully slipping it between the rope and Triss's skin. The bindings are so tight that she can't prevent the blade from digging in just a little bit, blood welling along the cut even as the ropes fall away against the sharp edge. 

"Sorry," she murmurs. "And sorry for the smell, as well."

"It's fine," Triss says. She's already on her feet and heading for the window Yennefer came in through. "It was good thinking."

Yennefer boosts her out the window before following behind her, and she lets out a breath of relief when she doesn't land outside and come face to face with the Brotherhood. 

"You can probably get away if you cut back that way." Yennefer points in the direction of a few small buildings that will give Triss enough cover to avoid being spotted until she's out of town. The other woman looks at Yennefer with open curiosity.

"Why are you helping me?"

It's a good question. Yennefer could spout something off about her values, or morals, or whatever, but she knows that's not really it. This goes beyond simply trying to stand up for someone being treated unfairly. She's risking her own life to break out a _bandit_ , which seems more than a little absurd. 

She starts to answer, but a sudden burst of gunfire from the opposite side of the building cuts her words off. Triss is immediately on the move, ducking around the side of the building and running towards the sound. Yennefer only hesitates for a split second before following. Simply being in the area when a fight breaks out isn't a crime, and she doesn't think anyone from the Brotherhood will be able to lock her up just because she felt like taking a _casual stroll_ down the street shortly before things got heated.

When she turns the corner of the building she finds a scene very much reminiscent of the first night she encountered the bandits. There are three women on horses that Yennefer doesn't recognize, but they're racing down the street and drawing the fire of the Brotherhood, who look absolutely incensed. She doesn't see Tissaia at first, and she wonders if the woman isn't here. 

A hand grasps around her wrist and tugs her back as a stray bullet lodges itself in the wood of the building right where she'd been standing. Yennefer turns and finds herself mere inches away from gleaming blue eyes and lips pulled up into a faint smirk.

"If I'd known you had such a predilection for throwing yourself in front of bullets I might not have left you alone for so long."

The comment is both arousing and infuriating. Yennefer wants nothing more than to agree that Tissaia definitely should not have left her alone for as long as she had. But part of her is just the tiniest bit irked that Tissaia isn't even her for _her_ , and she also doesn't appreciate the insinuation that she's _trying_ to get herself killed, because she's not. It's not her fault that this stupid town apparently vascillates between deadly boredom or just straight up deadly with absolutely no middle ground. 

She doesn't get a chance to respond. The firefight is picking up, clouds of dust swirling from the horses' hooves and acrid gunsmoke filling the air. 

Tissaia fixes her with a stern look. "Stay here and try not to get shot."

The smaller woman steps away to check on Triss and Yennefer feels something that is decidedly _not_ jealousy at the way Tissaia leans in close to the other woman, her lips pressed against her ear and her gaze impossibly tender. 

Triss nods at whatever Tissaia says and takes off at a light jog, keeping her head down and weaving between the buildings. Tissaia starts to walk away and Yennefer can't help following.

"Tissaia—"

The other woman turns to glance at her and her eyes widen. Yennefer freezes and the next few seconds happen in what feels like slow motion.

She follows the line of Tissaia's gaze and sees Sheriff Carduin coming around the back of the building and aiming his gun at Triss's back as she heads towards the other bandits. Yennefer's steps away from the building have brought her directly into his line of fire, and she almost scoffs at her stupidity. Of _course_ she would unknowingly walk right into the path of death, and all over a beautiful woman.

There's no time to react, and she braces herself for the impact as she hears the report of his gun firing. But the pain never comes. Instead, she feels herself go flying through the air and her back collides roughly with the ground. Her head spins as it hits the dirt, and she lies there for a second blinking hard to try to get her eyes to focus again. 

She hears more gunshots that sound like they're right above her, and she lifts her head just enough to see that Tissaia has drawn her pistol and is shooting back at Carduin, who promptly turns and runs for cover. 

"You seem to have a thing for tackling me," she says as she looks up at Tissaia, but her playful tone disappears as the smaller woman turns to face her. A bloom of red is spreading rapidly high on her chest, halfway between her neck and her left shoulder, and there's a pained grimace on her face.

Yennefer is on her feet in an instant, spinning head forgotten.

"Tissaia," she breathes, "You're hurt."

Tissaia bats her hands away as she reaches out for her. "I'm fine," she says, but the crack in her voice gives her away. Yennefer looks around frantically, unsure of what to do in this situation. She can't call for help without attracting the attention of the entire Brotherhood, which will only end with the woman in front of her sporting more bullet holes.

"Triss will be here soon with my horse," Tissaia continues, her lips pressed into a thin line and skin pale. Yennefer pulls her back towards the side of the building, and after a moment of thought she kneels and begins tearing strips of cloth from the hem of her dress. 

Tissaia watches her with faint interest but doesn't protest when Yennefer stands back up and uses the strips to apply pressure to the wounded area. There's no way of knowing how bad it is without seeing under Tissaia's shirt, and the middle of what is more or less a battlefield seems like a poor choice of location to start stripping the other woman. She makes do with wrapping the makeshift bandages tightly around Tissaia's shoulder, looping under her armpit and around her neck to secure them in place.

She hears the clatter of a horse approaching and whirls, ready to defend Tissaia with her bare hands if needed. The rider becomes clear and Yennefer nearly sags with relief when she recognizes Triss. 

The curly-haired bandit's face goes white when she sees Tissaia's condition, and she gestures for Yennefer to help her.

"I can't drag her up here myself," she hisses, the horse shifting nervously beneath her. Yennefer bodily lifts Tissaia as Triss pulls from above, and Tissaia manages to grab a handful of mane with her good arm and haul herself the rest of the way up until she's seated in front of Triss. Her eyes are hazy and half-closed, and Yennefer can't bite back the panic rising in her chest when she reaches out to grasp at Tissaia's hand.

"Tissaia—"

More gunshots interrupt whatever she was about to say, and Triss wheels the horse around, kicking it into a gallop. Yennefer presses herself back against the side of the building as she watches the horse disappear into the dust and smoke. She wants to believe that Tissaia will be fine. The woman is a bandit, after all, and injuries come with the territory. But it's shaken her to her core to see Tissaia hurt—and hurt on her behalf.

Yennefer forces herself away from the scene, knowing there's nothing left there for her now. The best thing she can do is to get back to the safety of her room. There will be time enough to worry after that.

###

When she draws a bath later that night, she's unprepared for the wave of grief and fear that crashes over her when she sees how the water runs pink with blood that she knows is not her own. Somehow she managed to end up looking like she was elbow-deep in Tissaia's innards, and she trembles as she says a silent prayer that the woman is still alive.

Now that the adrenaline of the battle has dissipated, all Yennefer can think of is the way that Tissaia's eyes had widened and looked at her with naked fear just before Carduin started shooting. But no—that's not quite right. Tissaia hadn't been looking at _her_ with fear, she had been looking at the gun that was aiming at Yennefer. The fear had been for her safety, and Yennefer can barely stand to relive how Tissaia had knocked her out of the way without a second of hesitation.

None of it makes sense. She knows that there was something between them—an attraction, a magnetic pull that made her yearn for the smaller woman in a way she's never known before—but Tissaia is still a bandit. Bandits are not in the habit of sacrificing themselves to protect innocent bystanders, as far as Yennefer is aware. Even if they have done sweet, thoughtful things for said innocent bystander. 

She wishes she could see Tissaia. There will be no rest for her mind until she knows that the other woman is alive and will recover. But she hasn't the faintest idea of how to make that happen without risking making everything worse. She wants nothing more than to run towards the mountains until she finds whatever mysterious location the bandits have claimed as their hideaway, but she knows she wouldn't escape the notice of the Brotherhood. 

She's honestly a little surprised they haven't come to interrogate her yet—she doesn't know whether Carduin recognized her when he was shooting, but there is sure to be at least one eyewitness in the town who saw her stumbling away from the battle covered in blood and missing the hem of her dress. If she tries to leave town right now they'll know it in a heartbeat; she'd bet money that they've got a man stationed outside the inn's front entrance to ensure that she can't go anywhere without their knowledge. They may not have any evidence to connect her to the bandits, but she's been at multiple fights and escaped unscathed now—and always because of Tissaia. That's plenty to make the Brotherhood suspicious, and suspicion is all they need to justify keeping a close eye on her.

Yennefer cleans herself up and changes into a thin nightgown before crawling into bed. Her body is exhausted, but she can't make her mind stop spinning in circles. She just keeps remembering the way Tissaia had looked just before they parted, the way her fingers had slipped from Yennefer's grasp as Triss turned the horse away. 

More than anything, she wishes that she could have another moment with Tissaia—just a single moment would be enough—to thank the smaller woman for saving her, and to tell her that she's not allowed to die. Not after being so fucking charming and stupidly chivalrous that she got herself shot keeping Yennefer safe.

But it's an impossibility, and she spends most of the night tossing and turning. And when she finally drifts into an exhausted sleep as the sun begins to rise, her body and mind completely spent, her dreams are full of blood and pained blue eyes.

###

Yennefer makes it exactly two days before she breaks. 

There's been no word about Tissaia. She doesn't know if the bandits would even think to inform her of whether the woman is still alive, and it grates at her to not have any idea what's going on.

Her initial suspicion had been right—when she left the inn to go to the small pharmacy the day after the fight, she'd noticed a man casually waiting on the periphery of the inn's entrance, and he'd followed her at a distance until she returned to the inn. It took a bit of planning to sort out how to avoid him, but she'd had a burst of inspiration when she'd glanced at her open window on the evening of the first day. 

If Tissaia could climb in and out, why can't she?

It ends up being a slightly more involved process than she expected—likely due in part to the fact that she is in a dress and not the pants Tissaia wore—but she manages well enough. There are no men stationed at the bottom of her window, and she takes a careful route through the town to avoid notice and ensure that the Brotherhood doesn't have any other people watching her.

When she's confident that she isn't being followed, she turns her feet towards the mountains and sets off at a brisk pace. She isn't sure how long it will take to get to wherever it is she's supposed to be going, and she doesn't want to be out wandering the wilderness past nightfall.

She walks for hours, and the mountains gradually loom larger above her. It's a good thing her lungs are more or less fully recovered, or she thinks she might have gotten herself into quite a bit of trouble stomping around out here. 

There are no indications of any human life that she can see. Numerous animals watch her cautiously, occasionally darting nearby, but she can't make out anything that would give her a hint that she's even heading in the right direction. The scraggly brush from the plains gives way to lush pine trees that scent the air and have Yennefer drawing deep breaths to savor the crispness. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for, or how Tissaia meant for her to be able to find them, but she trusts the other woman wouldn’t lead her astray and keeps walking.

It's getting to be late evening, the sun setting over the mountains in a glorious show of fiery orange and deep purple when she hears a bird call that sounds just a little too loud to be natural. She pauses and listens carefully, and she hears an answering bird call farther ahead.

"I want to see Tissaia."

She tries to project as much demand and confidence into her voice as she can muster when she says the words aloud. The bandits are out there somewhere, and she knows that they can hear her. They haven't tried to shoot her yet, which is a good sign, but she'd rather whoever is watching her give up the charade and just take her to see Tissaia already. 

Yennefer stands there for seconds that stretch into minutes, and she's just getting ready to give up and keep walking when she hears a twig crack. She whirls and sees a petite blonde woman striding towards her.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that much," she says begrudgingly. Yennefer eyes her coolly, unsure of what to expect, and the woman sighs and motions for her to follow.

She does, albeit a bit cautiously. There's no way of knowing what is waiting for her, and she half expects to be led into an ambush.

Instead, the blonde leads her through the forest until the trees are so dense that Yennefer can barely keep up without losing track of the woman. After a few minutes, the blonde makes an abrupt turn into what looks like a solid rocky cliff. Yennefer hesitates, unsure what could be back there, but then Tissaia's face flashes through her mind and she takes a deep breath and pushes on.

She squeezes after the blonde into a small crevice in the rock that opens up into a much larger enclosed space, and suddenly she sees the warm glow of a fire ahead. Yennefer can't help but be impressed as she takes in the cave—it's plenty large enough for the group and seems to go back quite a ways, and it's completely hidden from view. If she hadn't been following the blonde Yennefer would have had no idea that the cave was there, much less how large it is.

As they draw nearer to the fire, Yennefer recognizes Triss sitting next to it. The curly-haired woman rises to her feet and looks between the blonde and Yennefer in confusion.

"Sabrina? What is she doing here?

The blonde shrugs. "She found her way to the outskirts and Phillipa and I saw her. If she made it this far Tissaia must have told her where to look, so I figured I might as well bring her here."

Triss opens her mouth and then closes it abruptly. She looks over at Yennefer and sighs.

"You might as well sit down."

Yennefer doesn't. She didn't come all this way to sit down and rest by the fire. She wants to see Tissaia—needs to know that the woman is okay.

"Where is she?"

Triss scrubs a hand over her eyes and looks very tired all of a sudden. "She's resting. And I won't have you interrupting her sleep, it took me ages to get her to cooperate and drink the tincture I made for her."

The confirmation that Tissaia is alive, at least, is enough to have Yennefer's shoulders slump. She hadn't realized just how terrified she was that she would get here and learn the worst. 

Triss softens a little bit when she sees Yennefer's reaction and pats the ground next to her.

"Sabrina, will you grab one of the canteens?"

The blonde nods and grabs a metal canteen, tossing it to Triss before turning and heading back out of the cave with a wave over her shoulder.

Yennefer accepts the canteen when Triss hands it to her and sits on the ground a little awkwardly. She wasn't expecting to have to interact with anyone besides Tissaia, which is stupid in hindsight, but she doesn't know what to say. Finally she settles for asking after Tissaia again.

"She's going to be all right?"

"She'll survive," Triss says, rolling her shoulders and tipping her head back. "She's tough. Been through a lot worse than this."

Yennefer isn't sure if that's intended to make her feel better, as the thought of Tissaia being _more_ grievously injured makes her skin crawl. She takes a swig from the canteen and almost chokes when the strong taste of whiskey coats her tongue. Triss glances at her sideways with a faint smirk.

"Sorry. Sabrina must have grabbed the wrong one." She doesn't look repentant whatsoever, and Yennefer shakes her head and takes a long pull from the canteen, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she swallows. There's another few moments of silence and then Yennefer sighs.

“How are you?” Yennefer waves a hand at the other woman’s face, where her lip is swollen and a black eye has appeared. “It looked like the Brotherhood did a number on you earlier.”

Triss shrugs. “It’ll heal. I got off easy, all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Yennefer scowls. “You keep talking as if near-death experiences are daily occurrences, and I still don’t understand how a group of women even end up being bandits in the first place.”

It's a question that she's been harboring since she first heard about the bandits all being women, and she crosses her fingers that Triss will tell her. The other woman doesn't reply for a while, but then she grabs a stick and pokes at the fire as she groans.

"Tissaia would probably kill me for telling you, but you were invested enough to walk out here on the sliver of hope that you'd find her, and I guess that's enough for me."

Yennefer leans back and waits patiently. She can see the struggle playing out on Triss's face while she tries to decide what to say. 

"What's the one thing that the town doesn't have that you would expect?"

The question catches Yennefer off guard and she has to think about it. She can't come up with an answer and looks at Triss with an arched eyebrow, waiting for the answer.

"Most every town this far west has at least one brothel in it," Triss says, not meeting Yennefer's eyes. "This one was no different when it started. They brought in girls from back east to fill their stable, and it netted them quite the profit."

Yennefer nods slowly, processing this information. It makes sense. Thousands of men swarming west, and often without wives, would certainly be willing to pay a premium to feel the touch of a woman. But she doesn't see the connection to her question yet.

"It garnered a reputation for having the most beautiful women this side of the river, and the men running it enjoyed the power and influence it gave them. But they got greedy and began to allow the customers to do whatever they wanted with no regard for the safety of the women."

Triss is staring at the far wall of the cave, and her eyes are unfocused. Yennefer wonders what she's seeing, but the other woman shakes her head and her gaze clears.

"There was one woman who tried to fight back, to keep the rest of the girls safe. She would take the most dangerous customers and looked out for everyone. But one day a different girl got pulled in with a new client, and the woman didn't know what was happening until she heard the screams."

Yennefer's nails are digging into her palms and she bites her lip. She doesn't like the way this story is going. Not at all.

"The woman tried to get the man to stop but he kept going. He was going to kill the girl, and so the woman killed him first. There was no going back after that, and she took the rest of the girls and ran to keep them from being killed by the owners in retaliation."

"Tissaia." Yennefer whispers the word, the pieces falling into place, and Triss looks over and meets Yennefer's eyes. 

"Yes. She saved us all, and any one of us would die for her."

"But if she only killed the man in self defense then surely the Brotherhood would understand that?" Yennefer asks. 

"The man Tissaia killed was a member of the Brotherhood," Triss says quietly. "And the rest of them all pocketed a tidy sum from the brothel. They'll never forgive her for daring to fight back. And besides, we're only women. Our lives are disposable to them."

Yennefer knows what it is to be a woman in this world, and it's all too easy to imagine the Brotherhood being wrapped up in the type of exploitation Triss is describing. She remembers the cold, calculating look Stregobor had given her when they first spoke and shivers. Yes, she can imagine them being involved with no difficulty at all.

"Why not leave and start over somewhere else?" Yennefer asks. It's what she would have done in the same situation. But Triss just shakes her head.

"Tissaia said that if we left there would be nothing to stop them from starting over with a new batch of girls. So we stay, and we make sure that they can't do that, and we occasionally intercept key shipments that the Brotherhood are waiting on just to give them a bit of an extra headache." 

She gives Yennefer a sly smile, and Yennefer can't help but laugh. The whole thing is bordering on unbelievable, but it also makes sense. All of the questions she's been mulling over since she first crossed paths with Tissaia are neatly answered with Triss's succinct explanation...save one.

"And does Tissaia make a habit of saving stranger's lives?"

Triss lets out a surprised chuckle. "No. She does everything she can to ensure no innocent people are harmed, but I can't say I've ever seen her take a bullet for someone outside our circle before."

The knowledge soothes Yennefer and she relaxes a little. She's still hopeful that whatever she feels towards Tissaia is reciprocated and that it's not merely a casual passing interest. She wants it to feel as special to Tissaia as it does to her, and hearing that she's an exception rather than the rule bolsters her hopes. 

"So your plan is just to...what? Stay here and keep thwarting the Brotherhood at every opportunity until either you or them are dead?"

Triss opens her mouth to respond, but a voice from behind them cuts her off.

"I think that will be quite enough, Triss."

Yennefer turns so fast her head spins. Tissaia is standing there leaning against the wall, pale and with loose tendrils of hair falling about her face—but _alive_. Yennefer is on her feet and standing in front of Tissaia in an instant, one hand reaching out to brush against Tissaia's cheek. The woman hums a little at the contact and leans into the touch, and Yennefer is overcome with the urge to tuck Tissaia against her and protect her from whatever evils the world might send her way.

"You shouldn't be up and moving around," Triss says disapprovingly, and Tissaia rolls her eyes. 

"I've been resting all day, and I'm sure I'll keep resting for the remainder of the night. A few minutes standing up won't kill me."

Yennefer's expression mirrors Triss's and she steps just a bit closer to Tissaia, looking down at her and meeting her eyes. She has to fight not to get lost in the pools of blue that stare back at her, and she clears her throat.

"I did not walk all this way just to watch you collapse from overexertion, Tissaia."

Tissaia frowns at her, but she doesn't protest when Yennefer's hand comes to lightly rest on her forearm. 

"Fine," she murmurs. "I can see that I'm outnumbered." She twists her arm so that Yennefer's hand slides down until their fingers are brushing, and then she walks towards the back of the cave. Yennefer looks over her shoulder at Triss and the other woman shoos them along before pointing at Tissaia and miming sleep.

Yennefer almost bumps into Tissaia when the smaller woman stops at a small alcove. She looks inside and is surprised to see a small nest of blankets and a few candles lining the edges higher up on the wall. 

Tissaia steps into the alcove and turns to face Yennefer. She studies the younger woman's face for a few seconds before sighing. "You must be tired. It's late, and it will be for the best if you stay here tonight. You're welcome to join me, but if you'd be more comfortable elsewhere I can have Triss arrange something."

Yennefer shakes her head quickly. "I'll stay with you." She steps into the alcove after Tissaia and watches as the woman eases herself down onto the blankets with a small grimace. 

"Does it hurt?"

It's a silly question. Tissaia was shot. Of course it hurts. But Yennefer needs to know, wants to hear it from Tissaia's own lips.

"Not much," Tissaia says quietly. "The bullet went straight through so it will heal cleanly."

Yennefer reaches out to gently move the loose shirt that Tissaia is wearing to the side so that she can see the bandaging covering the wound. Her breath catches and she's suddenly overwhelmed by too many emotions to comprehend.

"Why did you do it? You knew you'd be hit." Her voice trembles just a little bit and she hopes Tissaia doesn't notice.

"I didn't know that. Carduin has never been the best shot. I was hoping he might miss," Tissaia replies with a tiny raise of her eyebrow. When Yennefer glares at her, she softens. "I couldn't stand by and let you get yourself killed in a fight that wasn't yours to start with."

Yennefer draws herself up a little at that. It might not have been her fight to start with, but she'd made her choices. She hadn't been obligated to help Triss any more than she had been compelled to come look for Tissaia. They were things she wanted to do, and she says as much to Tissaia. 

And sweet, stubborn, cocky Tissaia just tilts her head to the side and replies, "And I _wanted_ to save you. So I guess we're even."

"Why?"

She knows she sounds a little bit like a broken record, but Yennefer still can't quite wrap her mind around why Tissaia would want to save her badly enough to risk death. Her mind won't let the question rest until she has an answer.

"Because you're worth it."

The blunt response catches her off guard, and Yennefer watches Tissaia with surprise.

"How do you know that? You've talked to me exactly two times, that's not enough to even form a basic opinion about someone, much less decide to risk your life for them."

"Sometimes you just know," Tissaia says. Then she rolls her eyes as she settles back onto the blankets. "And besides. It was enough for you to decide you wanted to traipse all the way out here to check on me. So I don't think you've got much room to talk."

Yennefer is about to say something to protest, but Tissaia silences her with a small smile. "It's very sweet that you came."

The words calm Yennefer a little. The thought that she could have lost the other woman if the bullet had been just a little bit more center-mass is terrifying, and she tries to ground herself in the reality that Tissaia is fine, that she's here and looking at Yennefer with what feels like an absurd amount of tenderness for someone who's been shot and is still recuperating. 

On impulse, she slides down on the blankets until her body is pressed against the warmth of Tissaia's uninjured side. Now that she doesn't have to look at Tissaia's face, it makes her braver, and she tucks her head against the side of the woman's shoulder.

"I was so scared that you were dead."

She feels Tissaia shift and then soft lips brush against the top of her forehead.

"I'm fine. In a few weeks it will be just another scar."

Yennefer stretches an arm out and carefully brings it to rest across Tissaia's stomach. The woman allows the touch—seems to enjoy it, if the small content sigh that leaves her lips is any indication.

"Go to sleep, Yennefer," she says softly, sounding like she's on the edge of sleep herself. "I'll be here when you wake."

And that promise, paired with the feeling of Tissaia soft and warm and blessedly _alive_ next to her is enough for Yennefer to relax into the blankets. She focuses on the way that Tissaia's stomach rises and falls in a steady rhythm under her hand, and in minutes she's lulled into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is reading and commenting! Glad everyone is enjoying this AU, next chapter soon to come! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in the second part if that's not your jam—also bandit!Tissaia is apparently a service top? Bandit!Tissaia has rapidly become one of my favs lol, hope you all enjoy!

Yennefer comes to consciousness gradually. She blinks her eyes open and is immediately awestruck at the sight in front of her.

Tissaia is lying next to her, one arm holding Yennefer close against her side. The smaller woman's features are smoothed in sleep, her breath coming in a slow, even cadence. She looks soft like this, her usual swagger absent, and it makes Yennefer's heart clench. 

Blue eyes open sleepily and Tissaia's lips curl into a small smile when she sees Yennefer.

"Good morning," Yennefer hums, stretching a little and smirking to herself when she catches Tissaia's eyes track down to her breasts, which are very nearly exposed from how her dress has shifted overnight. 

Tissaia jerks her eyes away and if Yennefer didn't know better she would say that the other woman is blushing. "How did you sleep?"

"Better, knowing you were alive." Yennefer meets Tissaia's gaze evenly, searching the woman's face for any sign of what she's thinking. The smaller woman's expression is soft and open in a way that Yennefer hasn't had a chance to see before, and she can't help the sigh that escapes her at how beautiful Tissaia is. 

"I'm glad," Tissaia replies quietly, reaching out with her good arm to tuck a strand of hair behind Yennefer's ear. "I would not have you worrying about me."

"I wouldn't have to worry if you didn't keep throwing yourself in front of bullets," Yennefer grumbles. Tissaia arches an eyebrow at her.

"Is that any way to thank the woman who saved your life not once, but twice?"

An absolutely brilliant idea flits into Yennefer's mind and she gives Tissaia a devilish smirk as she props herself up on one elbow. "I suppose I never did get a chance to thank you properly." She maintains eye contact as she leans in painfully slow and brushes her lips against Tissaia's cheek, just barely at the corner of Tissaia's mouth. She feels the smaller woman draw in a sharp breath at the contact and her smirk grows wider as she pulls back.

"That's for saving my life the first time."

She leans in a second time and presses a kiss to the opposite side of Tissaia's mouth, her lips a fraction of a centimeter away from being fully against Tissaia's.

"That's for gifting me the perfume."

Tissaia's eyes are dark as she watches Yennefer. "And what do I get for taking a bullet for you?"

Yennefer feels a throb of desire as she sees Tissaia's gaze flick down to her lips. She lets her tongue flick out to moisten her lips, relishing the way Tissaia tracks the movement with hungry eyes. Her pulse is pounding in her ears as she begins to lean closer, her pace tantalizingly slow until her lips are a hair's breadth away from Tissaia's. 

Tissaia's breath catches as Yennefer pauses once more just before their lips can touch. The smaller woman looks up at Yennefer through her lashes and suddenly Yennefer  _ needs _ to kiss her, can't stand to wait another second. The thought races across her mind and she starts to close the final distance until—

"Tissaia?"

An awkward cough sounds from off to the side, where the alcove connects to the rest of the cave. Yennefer jerks back as if burned and looks over to see Triss standing there, studiously looking everywhere but at the two of them.

"What is it?"

Tissaia's voice is gravelly and the tone  _ does things _ to Yennefer. She wants to hear more of it, wants to see if she can make Tissaia lose control entirely, and so it takes her a second to process the next words out of Triss's mouth.

"The Brotherhood grabbed a few girls off an arriving train. No sign of where they're holding them, but Margarita is working on it."

She feels Tissaia tense next to her and the smaller woman's jaw clenches. 

"They're trying to lure you out," Yennefer says, the wheels turning in her mind. "They know you were injured, just not how badly."

"Well, they're going to be sorely disappointed," Tissaia growls, pushing herself upright. Yennefer's eyes widen and she catches Tissaia's upper arm.

"You can't be serious, Tissaia. There's no way you're fit to ride into another firefight, you're liable to fall off your horse!"

Tissaia's eyes narrow, but she softens after a moment when she sees the concern writ across Yennefer's face. She sighs and places a calming hand on the younger woman's waist. "I just need to make an appearance, darling. If they think me incapacitated they will not hesitate to press the perceived advantage."

Yennefer presses her lips together. She doesn't like it. The thought of Tissaia having to do anything other than lay here until she's fully recovered fills her with worry, and her brain tortures her with a sudden litany of images of Tissaia broken and bleeding upon the ground. 

She shakes her head to clear it. Much as she wants it to be, this is not her decision to make. But that doesn't mean she can't at least ask for some conditions.

"Promise me you won't do anything reckless," she says. "You're not allowed to throw yourself in front of any more bullets."

"I'll do my best," Tissaia replies. Yennefer wants to demand more but knows that the smaller woman can't make any guarantees. There's always the chance that she might be injured even if she stays on the fringes of the conflict.

There's a shout from the entrance of the cave and Triss looks over her shoulder before glancing apologetically back at them. "Margarita is back. We need to go."

Tissaia pushes herself to her feet and nods. Yennefer can't help her scowl as she stands, but then Tissaia reaches out and smooths a thumb over the frown lines on her brow. 

"Try not to worry, darling. Will you be able to find your way back to town or should I send Sabrina with you?"

Yennefer's nose wrinkles as she remembers the brusque blonde from the night before. "That won't be necessary."

Tissaia's lips quirk into a slight smile and she reluctantly turns towards Triss. "Lead the way."

As Tissaia walks away from her, Yennefer feels like she's missed an opportunity. She doesn't want to be too forward, but she can't help the emotions swirling in her chest that beg her to chase after the other woman and kiss her senseless. Her indecision vanishes just before Tissaia is out of sight, and Yennefer practically sprints out of the alcove.

"Wait!"

She skids to a halt as a very surprised Tissaia turns to face her, mouth half open to ask what's wrong, but Yennefer doesn't give her a chance. Instead, she crashes her lips onto Tissaia's and swallows the gasp that leaves the smaller woman. There's no hesitation as Tissaia kisses her back instantly, lips gliding along Yennefer's as her good arm comes to rest in the small of the younger woman's back to hold her close. 

Yennefer thinks she could quite happily go on kissing Tissaia forever, though her knees tremble when she feels a velvety tongue tease at the seam of her lips. She nips at Tissaia's bottom lip before pulling back. Tissaia tries to chase after her lips, and Yennefer can't help melting just a bit when she notices that Tissaia's eyes were closed during the kiss. It's unexpectedly endearing, but she can feel the other bandits staring at them and she refrains from commenting on it.

"Was that meant to be my final thank you?" Tissaia murmurs, sounding just the tiniest bit breathless as she opens her eyes, and Yennefer laughs low in her throat.

"No.  _ That _ was a promise of what's to come the next time I see you. So you'd better stay alive."

She watches as Tissaia's pupils dilate until her eyes are nearly black. The smaller woman's hand slides down from Yennefer's lower back until it's brushing against the curve of her ass. Her palm squeezes just enough to draw a gasp from Yennefer, and the younger woman barely manages to keep her hips from jerking towards Tissaia.

"I'll find you when I'm done."

The rasp in Tissaia's voice is even more pronounced than it was when Triss interrupted them, and Yennefer shivers as she nods. 

"You do that."

With one last look, Tissaia turns and heads for the entrance to the cave. The other bandits follow, but Yennefer catches Triss before she can leave.

"Keep her safe." She tries not to sound too demanding, but she thinks she might not have been successful from the faint smile Triss gives her. 

Triss pats Yennefer's shoulder reassuringly. "I told you last night that any one of us would die to protect her. Trust that."

The words ease some of the anxiety settling on Yennefer's shoulders and she sighs. The fact that the bandits can't be everywhere at once to protect Tissaia can't be helped. But she does trust that Triss and the others will do everything they can to keep Tissaia from harm; she can see the deep care and respect in every interaction they have with their leader.

"Keep yourselves safe too," Yennefer says, and Triss nods. 

"We will." And then she's gone, leaving Yennefer alone in the cave with the taste of Tissaia on her lips and nothing but her worries to keep her company.

###

It's two weeks before Yennefer sees Tissaia again. She spends the first week in her room resting, as her lungs apparently didn't love her unexpected jaunt out into the mountains. It's not nearly like the coughing fits she got before coming west, but she knows enough not to chance it. 

The only time that she leaves her room is to take her meals, and she is able to get the inn keeper talking about the latest bandit raid. She manages to keep a neutral expression when he describes how the Brotherhood were hoping that the leader had been killed in the prior attack, but she showed up guns blazing and shot the hat off Stregobor's head. 

Yennefer goes back to her room with a smile on her face, though there is still a thread of worry she can't be rid of. But she's confident that someone would come find her, would send word if anything happened to Tissaia now. Triss, at least, would not let her suffer with the unknown if something went wrong.

So she rests, and when she's recuperated and able to walk without getting short of breath, she resumes her daily laps of the town.

She uses her walks to try to learn more about what the Brotherhood might be planning next. It's a delicate balance to be on the fringes of conversations without drawing attention to herself, but she still manages to glean a few tidbits. Nothing major—the location of a few weapons caches the Brotherhood is establishing, and extra guards that they plan to station at the next rail drop—but she figures every little bit she can pass along the next time she sees Tissaia is helpful.

Her walks are nowhere near enough to fill all of her waking hours, though. The rest of her time is spent being increasingly distracted by thoughts of Tissaia. 

The kiss in the caves haunts her dreams, and more than once Yennefer wakes tangled in sweaty sheets with an unbearable throbbing between her legs. She's known lust before, but never like this. It's never ending, and even when she gets herself off the relief is dull and lasts for what feels like mere seconds before returning with even greater force. She needs Tissaia's hands on her, and she spends many a night contemplating sneaking back out to find the other woman.

But Tissaia promised her that she would come find her when she could, and she trusts that. If the bandit hasn't visited then there must be a reason for it. That thought is the only thing that prevents her from going out to look for Tissaia. Yennefer tells herself it will be worth it whenever she sees the bandit next, but it doesn't make the waiting any less torturous.

As the second week without word draws to a close, Yennefer continues trying to pick up what intel she can while desperately hoping for Tissaia to make an appearance. On her evening walk after supper, she overhears some idle chat outside the saloon about how Tissaia and the rest of the bandits have been giving the Brotherhood more hell than usual. Apparently horses have gone missing, and there have been a few tense near-misses that barely avoided escalating into full blown firefights.

Imagining Tissaia outwitting the Brotherhood at every turn, guns blazing and probably smirking all the while, is enough to make Yennefer swoon, and the problem only grows as the day drags on. The amount of time she's spent pining after Tissaia is bordering on absurd at this point, but she can't get the bandit out of her head and by the time she heads back to the inn she's resigned to the fact that she'll have to give herself another unsatisfying orgasm at her own hand if she wants to have a hope of sleeping tonight.

She doesn't hesitate before stripping her dress off as soon as the door to her room closes. She's wearing a light linen shift underneath but nothing else, and she crawls onto her bed without removing it.

Her skin is covered in a light sweat in spite of the cool air, and Yennefer shivers as she closes her eyes and brings one hand up to tease at a breast. She imagines it's Tissaia's hand touching her and groans at the mental image. Slipping her hand under her shift so that she can pinch and roll her nipple, Yennefer brings her other hand up to rest against her inner thigh. She forces herself to refrain from just rubbing her clit until she comes, knowing that it won't be enough. Instead, she lets her fingernails scratch along the sensitive skin of her thighs as she switches her other hand to focus attention on the opposite breast. 

It's only when she's panting and arching her back to try to get more contact somewhere,  _ anywhere _ , that she allows her fingers to brush along her slit. She's soaking wet, which she already knew, but the pleasure that jolts through her at the minimal contact is shocking in its intensity. Her hips buck up into the contact and she moans low in her throat.

She dips her fingers inside, just enough to tease herself, before sliding them up to rub light circles around her clit. It won't be enough pressure to make her come, but it does an incredible job of working her up even more as she tries to picture what Tissaia would look like braced above her with a hand buried between Yennefer's legs. 

She imagines what it would feel like to run her fingers through silky brunette locks, tugging them free from the pins holding them in place until they tumble loose and free around Tissaia's shoulders. Her brain conjures up the image of Tissaia in one of her button down shirts, the top buttons undone and the soft curve of her breast on display. Her fingers press a little harder and move more quickly as she recalls the dark look in Tissaia's eyes after they kissed, the naked want on her face as she chased after Yennefer's lips. 

" _ Tissaia. _ "

She gasps the other woman's name, eyes slammed shut as she tries to hold the picture of Tissaia in her mind. It's almost enough, but not quite, and keens as her hips shift, searching for more. She thinks about how Tissaia would look at her, wonders whether the smaller woman would let her come quickly or would drag it out until she begs. Yennefer has never been one to relinquish control in the bedroom, but as she imagines Tissaia fucking her and holding her on the edge indefinitely, she decides there is an exception to every rule.

"God, Tissaia,  _ please _ —"

"Please what?"

Yennefer's eyes snap open as a low, silky voice speaks from across the room. She wonders if she's hallucinating when she sees Tissaia standing by the window, but then the woman steps closer to the bed and speaks again. "I asked you a question, Yennefer." Her gaze dips to where Yennefer's hand is still working furiously between her legs, eyes hungrily drinking in the scene before her, and Yennefer shudders. 

The tiny, logical part of her mind is screaming that this is ridiculous, that she must be out of her mind to keep going like this, her shift rucked up around her waist as she touches herself under Tissaia's watchful eyes. But the much larger part of her—the one that has been consumed with thoughts of Tissaia, with dreaming of the other woman touching her and  _ fucking _ her—can't bear to stop. If anything, seeing the way that Tissaia bites her lip as she watches is pushing her towards the edge even faster, and Yennefer whines high in her throat.

"Please let me come," she gasps out, pulse thundering in her ears when Tissaia's eyes flick up to meet hers. The smaller woman is looking at Yennefer like she wants to devour her, and tension pools in Yenenfer's stomach as her hips stutter at the pure desire in the stare.

"Come for me," she murmurs, looking for all the world like she's barely holding herself back from pinning Yennefer to the bed and fucking her senseless. "I want to see you come, wishing it was me touching you—"

She doesn't even have to finish speaking before Yennefer is following her instructions, body arching off the bed as she comes with a wordless shout. 

Yennefer slows her hand as tremors race through her body, flooding every inch of her with pleasure. She's been waiting for this for so long that it doesn't even matter that Tissaia hasn't touched her—it's still the release her body has been craving, and she falls to the mattress in a breathless mess.

She's just opening her mouth to try to say something to Tissaia when the smaller woman slides onto the bed, straddling Yennefer's waist and swallowing her words with a kiss. It's heated and messy and if Yennefer's head wasn't already spinning from her orgasm it definitely is now. 

Tissaia pulls back and waits until Yennefer is able to focus and meet her eyes.

"I want to taste you."

The statement is so blunt that Yennefer nearly chokes on her breath, but she's nodding even before she's fully processed what Tissaia is saying. Her body is aflame everywhere that the smaller woman is pressed against her, and she wants anything and everything that she can have with Tissaia.

"Please," she pants, and even in the midst of what feels like a previously unknown level of arousal her heart melts at the small, genuine smile that crosses Tissaia's face at her response. The bandit dips her head to press a softer, sweeter kiss to Yennefer's lips before moving down her body.

Sharp teeth bite at the hollow of her neck and Yennefer's hands fly up to tangle in Tissaia's hair. Her idea from earlier has suddenly become possible to act out in reality, and she doesn't hesitate to let her fingers find the pins and pull them out until she can tug at the strands to pull them free. 

Tissaia hums against her skin, pushing Yennefer's shift out of the way to suck a mark into the soft skin just above Yennefer's breast before moving lower.

Yennefer's breath catches in her throat when she feels warm puffs of air skate across her cunt, and she has to fight not to use the grip she has on Tissaia's hair to speed things along. Her patience is rewarded a second later when the flat of Tissaia's tongue licks a firm stripe up to her clit, and Yennefer's head drops back against the pillows with a moan.

She feels Tissaia shifting, tugging her legs so that they're draped over the smaller woman's shoulders and then two fingers press at her entrance. She's so wet that there's no resistance, and pleasure sparks along her nerve endings as Tissaia begins a slow pace, curling her fingers each time she pulls them out in a way that has them hooking against a spot on Yennefer's front wall that makes her see stars.

"So wet," Tissaia murmurs, pausing in her ministrations to look up at Yennefer. "Is this all for me?"

The sight of Tissaia between her legs, mouth smeared with her arousal, threatens to break something open in Yennefer. 

"Yes," she breathes, "God, Tissaia, I can't stop thinking about you."

Tissaia growls at the admission, clearly pleased, and ducks her head to suck Yennefer's clit into her mouth. She adds a third finger and her thrusts become almost frantic as her tongue works in tandem. The onslaught of sensation, paired with the knowledge that it's  _ Tissaia _ making her feel this way, taking her to the brink and touching her, has Yennefer hurtling towards a second orgasm in record time. 

It sneaks up on her with its ferocity, and she barely has time to realize what's happening before the pressure inside of her snaps and has her releasing in a flood. Her fingers tighten in Tissaia's hair on reflex, and the resulting moan against her clit sends a fresh round of shockwaves through her body. It feels like it lasts forever and yet still somehow not long enough, and by the time she collapses back against the bed she knows—just  _ knows _ —that she's been ruined for anyone else.

Tissaia works her way back up Yennefer's body with gentle licks and kisses. The whisper of her shirt against the bare skin of Yennefer's chest makes the younger woman frown, and she blinks up at Tissaia. Her hands go to the hem of Tissaia's shirt, intending to pull it off, but she pauses when she catches a brief flash of hesitation on the woman's face.

"Can I touch you too?" Her voice is soft, no demand or judgment in the question. Tissaia seems to have an internal debate, shoulders tensing before she eventually lets out a sigh.

"Yes. But not tonight. Being able to touch you was enough."

Yennefer nods, accepting the answer easily. She reaches out and tucks a stray curl behind Tissaia's ear, her hand sliding around to the back of the smaller woman's neck to pull her in for another kiss. When they part, she watches Tissaia hopefully. 

"Can you stay a while longer? I've missed you."

Tissaia smiles and settles down onto the bed next to Yennefer, gathering her up in her arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "A little while. Rest now, I promise I'll wake you before I leave."

The assurance that Tissaia won't disappear and leave her wondering if she dreamt this whole thing is enough to let Yennefer relax into the embrace. She inhales the scent of what must be Tissaia's perfume—hints of cedar mixed with something earthy and floral—and it's a matter of seconds before she's fast asleep.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been so kind in their comments!! They are greatly appreciated :) Two more chapters before this one is done, I think, with plenty of adventure and smut still to come!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is....a lot of smut in this chapter. But like, it's tender smut. With FEELINGS. They're both just so precious and I want them to have all the sweet soft interactions in between kicking ass.
> 
> Also brazenedMinstrel composed a glorious theme to go with this fic (embedded below), give it a listen and yell at them about how epic it is on tumblr!

[brazenedMinstrel](https://soundcloud.com/user-768938233) · [Serenade of the Vagabond](https://soundcloud.com/user-768938233/serenade-of-the-vagabond)

They see more of each other after that first night together. It's not a conventional relationship, by any stretch, but it's more than Yennefer has ever dreamt of. Her days continue on much as they always have, but in the evenings she waits with bated breath to see whether Tissaia will come climbing through her window. The bandit doesn't manage to visit every night—sometimes they're lucky to get a single night in a week—but those stolen moments together make it all worthwhile.

Sometimes their visits are comprised solely of conversation and innocent touches. Tissaia will lean back on the pillows, Yennefer's head in her lap as she cards her fingers through the younger woman's soft hair while they talk. The conversation ranges far and wide—Yennefer learns more about the bandits, though Tissaia never says much about life before they escaped the brothel. Yennefer doesn't push, knowing it's not a happy story, and she tries to content herself with what the bandit is willing to share.

She finally gets answers to some of the questions that have been simmering in the back of her mind for weeks now. One evening when she's nearly asleep from how soothing it is to have Tissaia's fingers combing through her hair, nails gently scratching at her scalp, she asks Tissaia why they don't just kill the Brotherhood and be done with them once and for all. The fingers still for a moment, and Yennefer rolls over onto her back so that she can look up at Tissaia. The smaller woman looks sad as she purses her lips and sighs.

"It is not an easy thing, to kill a man," she says quietly. "I would not wish that on Triss or Sabrina or any of the rest of them. Not if there is a way to avoid it."

Yennefer's heart twinges as she remembers Triss saying that Tissaia had killed the client just before their escape, and she turns and nuzzles her face into Tissaia's stomach and presses a kiss there in a silent apology for bringing the subject up.

"Besides," Tissaia continues, "even if we killed them all tomorrow, it would not take long for more to spring up in their stead. This way, we keep them occupied and prevent them from doing any real harm. If it ever comes down to it, I will not hesitate to do what is necessary, but I would not have us use lethal options while other paths remain available."

Yennefer shares about her own life, as well, regaling Tissaia with stories of life back in New York. She skims over some parts (growing up with shit parents, not knowing whether she would live to see twenty, feeling constantly alone) but she has a sneaking suspicion that Tissaia is able to read between the lines and tell anyways. 

The bandit never says anything, doesn't ask invasive questions that would risk opening old wounds, but every time Yennefer omits something, it's like Tissaia _knows_ . The fingers in her hair always seem just a touch gentler, the look in the smaller woman's eyes growing tender and wistful as she stares down at Yennefer. It makes it feel easy to talk to Tissaia, and as the days flow into weeks, Yennefer finds herself omitting less and less. She's never had this closeness before—never _wanted_ it—and it's almost overwhelming sometimes when she lets herself think about how irrevocably Tissaia has changed her life.

When she voices the thought one night, she's surprised by the soft laugh that Tissaia lets out. It's not a sound she gets to hear very often, but every time she does she promises herself that she's going to do everything in her power to make it happen more.

"I never exactly saw myself in this situation either, Yennefer," Tissaia says, lips quirked upwards at the corners. "If someone had told me six months ago that the future would find me lying in bed with you like this—with anyone, honestly, not just you—I would have demanded they have their head checked for an injury."

Yennefer smiles at the admission, shifting on the bed so that she can lean up to brush a kiss against Tissaia's lips. "And now? What do you see the future holding now?"

It's a loaded question, but she can't help asking it. She's terribly curious about where this blossoming relationship between them can go, and they never speak of the distant future. 

Tissaia is quiet for a few seconds. Yennefer is just starting to worry that it was a bad question when the smaller woman reaches out and cups a cheek in her hand.

"Now, I dream of what it would be like to run away," she murmurs. "I wish more than anything I could sweep you off your feet and take you away from this place, somewhere safe and quiet where we could live out our days in peace."

"A cabin, perhaps," Yennefer says softly. "In the mountains." She can picture it clearly in her mind, this life Tissaia is imagining. And oh—she wants it desperately. Wants to wake up every morning tangled with the smaller woman, wants to wrap her arms around her from behind while they make supper together, wants to sit and watch the stars come out at night before falling asleep tucked against one another. She knows it's foolish to want those things when there's no clear path to achieve this idyllic existence, but now that Tissaia has spoken the words aloud Yennefer can't unsee it.

Tissaia hums in agreement. "With a very large bed," she adds, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"And why would we need that?" Yennefer teases. "We seem to do perfectly fine with this bed, thank you very much."

"Oh my dear," Tissaia replies, voice dropping into a low sultry drawl, "If _perfectly fine_ is how you'd describe it, then clearly I haven't been doing a very good job."

And this is the second way that their visits are spent—a blur of teeth and tongue and fingers, Yennefer trying frantically to quiet her gasps and moans so as not to attract attention. It's sex like she's never known before, pleasure that rockets through her whole body like a tidal wave and leaves her trembling and aching for Tissaia's touch every hour of the day and night. She can't get enough, and from the other woman's reactions she feels the same.

Except she still hasn't touched Tissaia—at least not in the ways that she would normally have expected after the amount of orgasms the smaller woman has given her. There has been an incredible amount of kissing (and _god_ Tissaia's tongue is like the eighth wonder of the world or something), and cuddling (she's never slept as soundly as she does with Tissaia's arms around her), and it's not like her hands haven't wandered _some_ over the evenings. But only ever over Tissaia's clothes, and never between her legs. 

It's not a dealbreaker or anything like that, if Tissaia doesn't want to be touched. But Yennefer doesn't think that's it. Because there have been too many moments where Tissaia's eyes have been dark, her hips grinding down in search of friction as little breathy gasps escape her. 

And yet when Yennefer asks if she can touch her, there's always a second of hesitation before Tissaia declines with a charming grin, saying that it's enough for her to be able to touch Yennefer. There's something more, something larger at work that she doesn't fully understand, and it doesn't feel right to pursue the matter. Whatever it is that makes Tissaia shy away from her is the bandit's business, and it's up to her to share or not.

In the meantime, Yen has done her best to be respectful and consistently check in with the smaller woman before doing anything physical. It's worked well enough so far, and Tissaia has gradually asked for more—Yennefer sucking dark bruises onto the curve of her neck, teeth scraping along the exposed skin of her clavicle, hands palming her breasts over the fabric of her shirt. Yennefer thinks she'll be content with whatever ways Tissaia wants to be had regardless of if it never progresses beyond this, and she savors every piece of the smaller woman that's shared with her.

Sometimes they lay twined together and plan strategies about how to counter the Brotherhood's next move. Tissaia is brilliant in a way that makes Yennefer want to worship at her feet, and she always feels a little thrill of pleasure when she's able to offer a helpful suggestion or spot a possible misstep in the plan. More than once she offers to do more reconnaissance on the Brotherhood, but Tissaia is adamantly against the idea. 

The repeated refusal chafes at Yennefer more than she likes to admit, but she holds her tongue. If Tissaia is right and this is truly a long-haul fight against the Brotherhood, there will be no shortage of opportunities for Yennefer to involve herself and contribute down the line. It's mostly enough to keep her from making snippy comments, but every so often one will slip out and she can't decide if she's terrified or deeply aroused at the way Tissaia's brow arches at the challenge.

Overall, though, things between them are good—incredible, even. It's the happiest Yennefer has ever been in her life, and for the first time she feels like there is a concrete future for her to look forward to. And with her daily life consisting of relaxed walks around the town, followed by evenings spent wrapped in Tissaia's arms, it's easy for her to forget just how precarious everything is.

That all changes one night in mid-November. It's late, and Tissaia almost always arrives before midnight. It shouldn't be a big deal not to see her tonight, since she was there until the wee hours of the morning the night before. They'll go up to a week between visits, if the bandits are on a raid that takes them farther away from the town, so it doesn't necessarily mean anything is wrong. But Tissaia hadn't mentioned being away, and something just doesn't feel right. 

Yennefer stands and goes to the window, throwing it open and inhaling the cold night air. It's crisp and clear outside, but there's a faint smokey smell that stokes her anxiety just a bit higher. If she listens carefully she can hear voices laughing and cheering out in the town—the Brotherhood, she imagines, since there are few other groups that would be out and about at this hour. She wonders if there was a raid she didn't know about, and her heart twists as she prays that nothing has happened to Tissaia.

She paces by the window for a few minutes before sitting on the edge of the bed and closing her eyes. She takes a few deep breaths to try to calm herself. Tissaia is smart. She wouldn't get into a situation that was dangerous, and the Brotherhood are far from intelligent enough to be able to come up with a trap that would lure the bandit in.

_But accidents still happen, whispers_ the traitorous voice at the back of her brain, and Yennefer rolls over and buries her face into her pillow. It's fine. She's overreacting, and she'll wake up in the morning and hear about how the Brotherhood just had a bit too much to drink at the saloon. She can laugh at her overactive imagination then, maybe even tell Tissaia about it when she sees her next. She falls into a fitful sleep, a frown etched on her features, still trying to reassure herself that Tissaia is safe and this is just a moment of anxiety. 

She's not sure how long she's been dozing when a soft sound from the window jars her awake. She's on her feet in an instant, and she has to blink a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes and be sure that she isn't imagining Tissaia. The smaller woman is leaning against the wall and even in the pale moonlight Yenenfer can see that her face is drawn and tired.

"Tissaia," she breathes, starting towards the smaller woman. She stops when she sees the way that Tissaia's shirt is torn across the side, the fabric stained red. Her stomach climbs into her throat with panic as her eyes search the small woman's body for any other sign of injury. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine, Yennefer," Tissaia replies. But her voice is tight and Yennefer knows it's a lie. She changes course and goes to light a few candles so that she can see better. When the room is filled with a soft glow, she approaches Tissaia once more. Yennefer keeps her movements slow, reaching out to grasp Tissaia's hands in hers and tug the smaller woman over to the bed, nudging her to sit down. It's clear that the bandit isn't bleeding out, which is a relief, but she can't make out the injury through the torn fabric of the woman's shirt. 

She kneels in front of the bandit and waits until Tissaia meets her eyes.

"I need to check how badly you're injured," she says quietly. "Can I undo your shirt?"

There's a few seconds where she can see the conflict play out on Tissaia's face, and she sighs with relief when the bandit nods her assent. Yennefer undoes the buttons, watching the smaller woman for any sign that she needs to stop. None comes, and soon enough the front of the shirt falls open in front of her. 

Yennefer studiously averts her eyes from the thin fabric of the bandit's breast bindings. Her attention goes to the wound at Tissaia's side—a graze across her ribcage, though it thankfully looks mostly superficial—and she reaches out to brush a finger along the edge of the injury. She feels more than hears Tissaia's breath catch at the slight touch, and she glances up and sees Tissaia chewing her lip, looking anywhere but at her.

There's a pitcher of water by the bedside that Yennefer grabs, rifling through a drawer until she finds a scrap of cloth that she can soak and wring out. Her hand is steady as she gently dabs at the wound, cleaning the blood from Tissaia's skin while stealing quick looks up at the bandit's face to try to gauge what she's thinking. The smaller woman's lips are pursed, but she sits perfectly still while Yennefer attends to her. 

She manages to clean most of the graze, but it's a tricky angle to reach the section of the injury that wraps around onto Tissaia's back. She hesitates, not wanting to make the woman even more uncomfortable, but she also doesn't want her to die of sepsis so she steels herself and asks, "Can I take your shirt the rest of the way off? I need to see your back to make sure the whole wound is cleaned."

Tissaia's teeth are sunk so deep into her bottom lip that Yennefer can see the way the flesh has gone white around the indentations, but the bandit nods and adjusts her posture so that Yennefer can slide the fabric from her shoulders and drop it at the edge of the bed. Yennefer shifts on the mattress so that she can get a better look at Tissaia's back, and the air rushes out of her lungs at the sight.

The graze wound looks fine—it'll only take a few more minutes to finish cleaning it—but the smooth skin of Tissaia's back is covered in an intricate lattice of scars, thin raised white lines covering every inch from her shoulder blades down to where the waist of her pants starts. They speak to an ongoing cruelty that Yennefer can't bear to imagine Tissaia enduring, and now she's the one biting her lip hard enough to bleed in order to keep from saying something she might regret. She knows that Tissaia doesn't want her pity, and anything else that she might say right now would be more about her own feelings and less about what would actually be helpful for the bandit.

She focuses on the wound, lips pressing into a thin line as she debates whether it will need to be bound. It's shallow enough that she decides no, it will be fine to leave it as it is, and she wipes it with the wet cloth a final time before pulling away. Tissaia doesn't move, just sits there with perfectly straight posture, and Yennefer's hands itch to hold her, to feel the warmth of her flesh so that she can convince herself that the bandit is here and _alive_. 

"Tissaia," she chokes out, her throat suddenly closing with fear of what might have happened had the bullet hit its intended mark. And it's not just that, it's seeing the evidence of everything else that Tissaia has survived, and while she's _survived_ Yennefer is overwhelmed with the crushing knowledge that she might still lose her at some point. 

The smaller woman turns to face her, and whatever Tissaia sees on her face makes the bandit shift closer, her hands coming up to cradle Yennefer's face.

"I'm okay," she whispers. "I'm here, Yennefer, it's all right."

But it's not all right at all, Yennefer thinks. Everything she's managed to avoid thinking about—how every time Tissaia says goodbye to her might be the last time she ever sees her, the fact that there are people literally spending their every waking moment trying to plot ways to kill this brilliant, sweet, _incredible_ woman—is bubbling up in her chest, and a broken sob rises in her. 

Warm hands cover her own, leading them around until they're pressed against the skin of Tissaia's back, the smaller woman shifting closer until her front is molded against Yennefer's, her face nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

"I'm here," she repeats, the words whispering across Yennefer's neck. The younger woman's hands move across Tissaia's back, pulling the bandit closer and grasping at skin in a desperate bid to ground herself in the moment. She can feel the faint ridged lines of the smaller woman's scars underneath her palms, and the thought of someone daring to hurt her has Yennefer pulling Tissaia even tighter against her. She turns her head, ducking it just enough that she can capture Tissaia's lips in a near-frantic attempt at reminding herself that the smaller woman is safe.

Tissaia kisses her back with just as much urgency, meeting Yennefer's need with her own as she fists her hands in the thin material of the younger woman's nightgown. Their breath comes in hot, heavy pants as they kiss, and Yennefer can't stop the way her hands are roving across the expanse of Tissaia's back. She trembles when Tissaia shifts so that she's straddling her lap, giving the smaller woman the height advantage and forcing Yennefer to crane her neck up to avoid breaking the kiss. 

Her hands slide down to Tissaia's hips, gripping tightly, and she groans when the bandit grinds down against her. 

"Tissaia," she pants, fingers flexing with the effort it takes not to wander, "Can I touch you? Please?"

For a second time that night she watches as conflict plays out across the bandit's face, but then Tissaia is nodding, leaning down to kiss Yennefer so deeply that it makes her head spin. Yennefer's hands start to smooth downwards over Tissaia's thighs, but they're halted by the smaller woman's hands coming to rest on top of them as she looks at Yennefer with a hint of insecurity.

"Pleasure is...hard, for me," she says softly. "I don't want you to be frustrated or disappointed if I can't..." she trails off, her expression somehow both defiant and ashamed. It breaks Yennefer's heart a little, and she brings her hands up to cradle Tissaia's face.

"Oh Tissaia, you sweet, foolish woman," she murmurs, tenderly pulling Tissaia closer until their foreheads are resting together. "I could never be frustrated or disappointed in you. You're the most incredible thing that's ever happened to me." She strokes a thumb across Tissaia's cheek as she tries to pour all of the emotion she's feeling into the gesture. The smaller woman hums low in her throat and her eyes slip closed for a moment as she leans into the touch. Yennefer waits until Tissaia's eyes blink open once more before she leans forward and brushes a soft kiss against her lips.

"Do you want this?" she asks seriously. "Because while I would love to explore every inch of you with my mouth—" she gives a lascivious smile and delights in the way that Tissaia's eyes grow just a hint darker at the suggestion— "I would be just as happy to fall asleep holding you in my arms." And it's true. She wants whatever Tissaia will share with her—whatever will make the other woman feel safe and cared for and _loved_. 

The words seem to settle Tissaia, and she shakes her head. "I want this, Yennefer. _God_ , I've wanted this since I first saw you, you have no idea how many times I've dreamt of you—of this."

"Well then," Yennefer says coyly, "Let's see how reality measures up, hmm?" She nips at Tissaia's bottom lip before meeting her eyes. "Tell me if I do anything you don't like." When she gets a nod in response, she skims her hands back down the smaller woman's body until she's able to adjust their position, nudging Tissaia back until she's laying fully horizontal on the bed with Yennefer hovering above her. If she's going to be allowed to do this, then she's going to do it properly. She doesn't just want a quick fuck with Tissaia—she wants to _worship_ the smaller woman, make her feel the depths of the emotion that pools in Yennefer's chest when she looks at the bandit. 

With Tissaia situated beneath her, Yennefer leans down to kiss her again, tongue darting out to trace the roof of Tissaia's mouth. She could spend all night kissing Tissaia, swallowing the little gasps and moans she makes, the wet slide of their lips and tongues making her feel dizzy and faint with desire. Sharp teeth nip at her bottom lip and she flushes at the sound that escapes her own mouth at the sensation. Someday, she promises herself, she'll find a way to have Tissaia on a bed where they don't have to worry about being overheard. But in the interim, there's still something undeniably sexy in the way that Tissaia's head tips back against the pillows, lip pulled firmly between her teeth in a bid to silence her groan as Yennefer brings a hand up to lightly palm a breast over the bindings.

"Can I?" Yennefer murmurs, dipping her head to suck at Tissaia's neck. The smaller woman nods rapidly, hands coming up to help Yennefer remove the bindings, and then Yennefer's brain loses all coherent thought as she feels the softness of Tissaia's skin on her hand, a nipple hardening beneath her palm.

"God, Tissaia," she groans, kneading the breast for a moment before tweaking the nipple between her thumb and forefinger. "You have no idea what you do to me." 

Tissaia arches up into her, and Yennefer kisses a trail down her chest until she's able to circle a nipple with her tongue. She doesn't know what Tissaia likes, and she's loath to do anything that might unintentionally bring up bad memories, so she goes slowly. She laves her tongue over the nipple and notes the shiver that runs through Tissaia's body at the action, smiling as she lowers her head and sucks the nipple into her mouth. 

A hand comes to rest on the back of her head, holding her close as Tissaia gasps, "A little—ah—a little harder, darling."

Yennefer adjusts immediately, sealing her lips and sucking harder, letting her teeth scrape against the nipple with just enough force to sting. The sound Tissaia makes in response sets Yennefer's whole body on edge, skyrocketing her arousal to new heights. She's fairly certain if she can keep drawing those noises from Tissaia's mouth she'll be able to come from the sheer eroticism of knowing that she's the one making the smaller woman feel that way.

She spends long minutes lost in Tissaia's breasts, alternating between them with her mouth and fingers as she explores everything that the woman likes. Tissaia's chest is flushed and heaving, littered with tiny bruising bite marks by the time Yennefer begins to slide lower. She's careful to avoid the injury on Tissaia's rib cage, but she presses tender kisses to the soft plane of the woman's stomach and on down to her hip bones, where she pauses to nibble at the delicate skin. Tissaia laughs and squirms under her, hands gently shoving at Yennefer to get her to stop. 

Yennefer sits up a little so that she can slide Tissaia's pants off, pulling her undergarments along with them, and when the bandit is laid bare before her she has to stop to catch her breath. Tissaia looks like some ethereal being in the wavering light, sprawled across the bed and spread open just for her. Yennefer stretches up to drop a kiss against the smaller woman's mouth before working her way back down her torso, past her stomach and over her hip bones until she's hovering over Tissaia's center. She can smell Tissaia's arousal, and her mouth is watering from the desire to taste, but she waits until Tissaia nods at her and whispers, "Please."

It takes every ounce of her self-control to not dive in headlong and bury herself in Tissaia's cunt, but Yennefer manages to restrain herself to soft kitten licks and open-mouthed kisses along the smaller woman's thighs as she works her way up to her core. She glances up and sees Tissaia watching her with wide, dark eyes, and Yennefer maintains steady eye contact as she lowers her mouth and flicks her tongue out. The first taste of the smaller woman has Yennefer moaning, pushing forward with more intent as she licks a broad stripe up to Tissaia's clit. She lets the tip of her tongue apply a hint of pressure and grins when Tissaia's head tips back, eyes slamming shut as her hips buck.

She settles in between Tissaia's thighs, experimenting with lips and tongue and fingers to see what gets the greatest reactions. Every time she hears a choked moan that Tissaia can't swallow, or feels fingers twist in her hair and tug, she feels a thrill race through her at being able to pleasure the other woman. It's everything she always imagined and more, and she thinks she could do this forever. 

Her enthusiasm and persistence slowly pay off, and Tissaia's groans gradually grow louder, her hips rising to meet Yennefer's fingers and mouth with more and more urgency. Yennefer can't resist dropping one hand to rub furiously between her own legs, the sight and sound and taste of Tissaia climbing towards her peak making her painfully aware of her own need. When her fingers brush against her clit, she groans into Tissaia's center, and the added sensation makes the smaller woman arch off the bed.

"Yennefer," she pants, one hand flying down to tighten in the younger woman's hair, "I'm so close, please, I want you to come with me—"

Yennefer bucks against her own hand, tipping over the edge with a wordless cry as she uses every ounce of willpower she has to keep her tongue moving in the same quick rhythm against Tissaia's clit. She feels Tissaia go tense above her, back bowed and every muscle coiled tight as a spring, before her whole body shudders and she collapses against the mattress. Yennefer keeps moving her tongue against slick flesh until the hand in her hair tugs, urging her upwards and into a searing kiss.

When they part, Yennefer rests her forehead against Tissaia's shoulder. The candles she lit when the bandit first entered the room have burned down to pools of melted wax, leaving them in near-darkness. 

"You're incredible," she murmurs, punctuating the words with a soft kiss. Her lips land just above the scar that's left over from when Tissaia was shot by Carduin, and Yennefer frowns a little before pulling back.

"I want to help you all fight the Brotherhood," she says. "And I can't take no for an answer anymore Tissaia, not about this."

The bandit looks at her with some indecipherable mix of emotions before sighing. "I would be a fool to continue refusing your assistance," she says with a wry smile, but it's sad around the edges. "I just—I couldn't bear it, if something happened to you because of me. The very thought of it makes me want to spirit you away somewhere that you'll be safe from all this."

"Then you must know why I can't sit idly by," Yennefer replies softly. "It's already torture, to know you're out there risking your life while I sit in this cursed room. But if anything happened to you and there was something I could have done to prevent it, to keep you safe? I couldn't live with that."

"Just promise me you won't take any unnecessary risks," Tissaia says, her tone making it clear that she's still not thrilled with this proposal. Yennefer laughs at the request and shakes her head fondly. 

"Oh Tissaia. Out of the two of us, I think it's quite clear which of us is more likely to end up doing something stupidly chivalrous that results in grievous injury." She pokes at the scar on Tissaia's shoulder to emphasize her point and the smaller woman chuckles.

"Fair enough. Now settle down, darling, you've worn me out and if I'm to make it back to the caves by morning I'll need at least a few minutes of sleep."

Yennefer grins and shifts to kiss Tissaia sweetly before snuggling into the blanket next to her. "I'll wake you before dawn."

###

"Yennefer Vengerberg, if you don't keep your hands to yourself I'm going to be trapped in this room all day again!"

The hissed words are lacking in any bite, but Yennefer reluctantly pulls away. "Fine, then. Go be a dashing bandit heroine that makes all the ladies swoon."

Tissaia looks at her fondly as she finishes buttoning her shirt. "You know there's only one lady I'm interested in, darling. And I wouldn't leave if there wasn't a train arriving this evening."

Yennefer pretends to pout, but she can't fully contain her smile. It's been a glorious three weeks since the night Tissaia climbed into her window after being injured (as a result, Yennefer later learned, of the Brotherhood going on an unplanned excursion to a nearby town in search of young women). She's become slightly more discerning about the routes she takes on her daily walks, and it's of course entirely coincidental that her path crosses frequently with members of the Brotherhood. Well, that's not quite true—she doesn't even cross their path, more walks parallel to them at a convenient and totally innocent distance that allows her to overhear their conversations. 

It's remarkable, honestly, how brazen they are in their plotting. She supposes that nobody would really care much about bandits being killed even if they did overhear, and it works in her favor that they make no effort to be secretive. The conversations she listens in on have given Tissaia and the other bandits quite the advantage these past weeks, and it gives Yennefer no small amount of satisfaction to hear the Brotherhood pulling their hair out over how the bandits somehow manage to always be two steps ahead. 

So she spends her days acting as a spy, doing everything in her power to collect the information that Tissaia needs to stay safe, and then she spends her nights wrapped in Tissaia's arms and feeling like the luckiest person in the entire world. She still can't believe sometimes that the universe saw fit to bless her with someone as incredible as the bandit. 

With Tissaia, she feels like someone precious and cared for. The smaller woman shows her through every word and touch, and even when she's not able to visit she somehow manages to arrange for sweet, small surprises—a sprig of purple columbine flowers with a small note saying they match her eyes, a few pieces of hard candy from a shop back east that Yennefer mentioned missing. 

One time she opens a small package that's mysteriously appeared on her dresser and finds a striking necklace nestled inside. It's a wooden pendant with intricate designs carved into it, the edges singed with flame to highlight the patterns. It hangs on a simple leather cord, and Yennefer knows that this isn't something Tissaia purchased or procured from a stray shipment; this is something the smaller woman made just for her. The thought of Tissaia sitting by the fire on nights when they're apart, painstakingly carving the pendant by the dim light, warms her heart, and she slips the cord over her neck with no intention of removing it unless strictly necessary.

For her part, Yennefer does everything she can to be a soft place for Tissaia to land whenever she wants it. She listens carefully when Tissaia shares unexpected stories of how she got a particular scar, and she banishes the hurt from the smaller woman's eyes with soft words and gentle touches afterwards. They discuss strategy, and Yennefer acts as a sounding board for Tissaia's ideas, helping her pick them over until they're foolproof. And at every opportunity, Yennefer does her best to make the bandit smile, to draw those elusive bursts of laughter from her and make her forget her worries for even a few seconds. 

She's managed to wear Tissaia's hyper-cautious approach down, plying her with kisses and tempting words whispered in the bandit's ear just before the sun begins to rise. It's resulted in Tissaia being trapped in Yennefer's room on three separate occasions now, because it's not exactly a simple matter for the very recognizable bandit to sneak out of town in broad daylight. Tissaia always grouses that they're playing with fire, and while Yennefer can see the genuine worry in the smaller woman's eyes, so far she's succeeded in convincing her that it's worth the occasional risk.

This morning, however, Tissaia has proven more resistant than usual to Yennefer's cajoling. The bandit groans when she turns to look at Yennefer and finds the younger woman sprawled across the bed, naked flesh on full display.

"Tease," she mutters, bending down to kiss Yennefer sweetly. Yennefer looks up at her with her best approximation of an innocent smile. 

"It's part of my charm."

Tissaia huffs, but her lips tick up at the edges as she goes to the window. It's just before dawn—a bit lighter outside than is ideal, and she spends several moments examining the streets below. When she's satisfied that there's nobody there to see her leave, she glances over her shoulder at Yennefer and her mouth curves into a full smile.

"Be safe, sweet girl," she murmurs, and then she's out the window. Yennefer relaxes back on the bed, her body pleasantly sore from the night's activities. She's just starting to doze off when a sharp knock sounds at her door. She sits up and frowns. It's far too early in the morning for polite company. The only reason someone would disturb her at this hour is if there is bad news or a message from someone back east of utmost importance. 

She throws on a dressing gown and pads to the door. She opens it a crack, just to be safe, and sees the man from the front desk of the inn standing there shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"What is it?" she asks. Her tone is a bit brusque, but she thinks it can be forgiven since she's theoretically just been woken from a deep slumber.

"Urgent message, ma'am," he replies, "I've got it written down at the desk if you'll come."

Yennefer nods slowly, opening the door cautiously. She steps through it, and as soon as she does she sees a flash of movement in her peripheral vision. There's just barely time for her to register that she knows her attacker, and then the world goes dark.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER! Haha one chapter left to wrap everything up, I think :) Huge thank you to everyone who is reading, leaving kudos, and commenting, you all are the best!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was not planning on there being such a long wait for this chapter, but hopefully you all enjoy! 
> 
> (also I am putting a disclaimer on the front end that there is no smut lol, just so you don't get to the end and then go WHERE IS IT?! You'll have to re-read the middle chapters if you want that stuff :p)

[brazenedMinstrel](https://soundcloud.com/user-768938233) · [Serenade of the Vagabond](https://soundcloud.com/user-768938233/serenade-of-the-vagabond)

When she blinks into awareness, Yennefer becomes immediately aware of two things. First, her head feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to it. Her temples are pounding and her mouth feels cottony and dry. A sour taste lingers across her tongue as she tries to blink her eyes open. She wants to rub her eyes with her hands—they're gritty and her eyelids are almost too heavy to lift, but the impulse to move her hands is what alerts her to the second thing: that she is tightly bound and cannot move.

It takes a few tries before she's able to peel her eyes open, but when she does she almost wishes she hadn't. Light stabs at her eyes and makes the world spin around her, and for a few miserable seconds she thinks she's going to vomit. 

The sensation passes, but then a different type of nausea settles in her belly as she's able to take in her surroundings. She's tied to a large wooden post that is set in the ground along one edge of the town plaza. Her wrists are bound around the back of it, and she can feel the coarse rope cutting into the tender skin there. There's absolutely no give to the rope when she tests it. She's not sure exactly how much time has passed, but a quick glance at the sky is enough to guess that it's late evening with night fast approaching.

"Look who's awake, fellas!"

The voice grates her ears and she knows who it is even without turning to look. Stregobor swaggers into view and gives her a smirk that shows off his tobacco-stained teeth. "We've been waiting for you to come around before we get the real fun started."

Yennefer isn't sure what to make of his words until she sees the way his eyes flicker down to her feet. Her gaze drops to follow his line of sight and her heart freezes when she spots a small pile of kindling at the base of the post.

"Burning innocent women at the stake isn't going to endear you to anyone," she says. Her voice doesn't tremble even though her insides feel like they're about to fall apart at the realization of what they plan to do. 

"You're far from innocent," he drawls. "Or are you going to tell me it's a coincidence that a nice townsperson informed us they saw the most wanted woman in the west climbing out of your bedroom window last week?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The words sound stilted even to her, but she has to try. The thought of them knowing about her and Tissaia causes the nausea to swell in her once more as she wonders whether they've already captured the bandit. They could be torturing her at this very moment, or even worse, she could be dead—

Yennefer forces herself to stop thinking. Stregobor would have said something if they'd already caught Tissaia, he wouldn't have been able to resist gloating. Purely by virtue of that fact that he hasn't rubbed it in her face already she can assume that Tissaia is safe, at least for the moment. 

It's still hard to keep her expression neutral as she watches her appraisingly though, even knowing that he's attempting to bait a rise out of her. She feels a brief moment of satisfaction when he frowns, clearly irritated that she's not devolving into a panicked mess, but it evaporates in the next instant when his lips thin and he mutters, "Your denials won't save her—or you. Actions speak louder than words, and I would bet my life that in spite of your claim that you have no relation with her, she'll be here shortly once word reaches her of your fate."

He turns and leaves Yennefer to her thoughts for a few moments. The worst part is that he's right; she knows in her bones that Tissaia will come for her even knowing that it's a trap. She swallows down bile at the mental image of the carnage that is sure to ensue if the bandit rides into the Brotherhood's ambush.

_Think. Focus._ She mentally catalogs what her options are. The rope around her wrists is too tight to easily slip. She might be able to get a hand free if she wrenches her thumb hard enough, but she'd prefer to avoid that if at all possible. Her feet can't get any leverage against the post in spite of her best efforts, and she curses the fact that whoever tied her up clearly knew what they were doing. Would it be too much to ask for them to accidentally leave one of the knots loose or something?

She keeps working her wrists back and forth while keeping one eye on Stregobor and the others, and she prays that Tissaia won't do anything foolish.

###

Tissaia has only been back for a few hours when the news comes. She's felt restless all morning since she left Yennefer, something twisting and gnawing in her gut like an angry animal. She doesn't know what's wrong, but she knows that her intuition has yet to lead her astray, and something bad is coming.

The only thing that eases her fear somewhat is knowing that Yennefer is safe. Likely still asleep, after the night they spent together. A small smile touches her lips as she remembers the way the first rays of the sunrise had cast a muted pink glow across the curve of Yennefer's hip as they laid in bed together, the soft light reflecting in the younger woman's eyes. 

She doesn't think she's ever been as happy as she is with Yennefer. She'd never dared imagine that she could have something like this—something so precious. Some _one_ so precious. Every moment that she gets to spend with Yennefer is carefully committed to memory and tucked away deep inside of her to be revisited and remembered when they are apart. And yet even with all of the unexpected joy the younger woman has brought into her life, now that she's gotten a taste of happiness Tissaia finds herself wanting _more_. No matter how impossible the idea seems, she craves a world where she is able to be with Yennefer all of the time, where they don't have to hide and look over their shoulders in fear. 

She's tired, after all the years spent fighting the Brotherhood and trying to protect her girls. She wouldn't trade it for anything—she knows she's made a difference, shudders to think of what might have happened at the brothel all those years ago if she hadn't been there. And maybe for a long time she was fine with the idea of this being her life, of her legacy being to keep everyone else safe for as long as possible until the day she inevitably ended up in a scrape she couldn't get out of. She'd always thought it was worth it. Her life had never had much meaning beyond the potential for saving others from what she'd been forced to endure, so it didn't matter overly much if she died young. 

Except then Yennefer came along and changed everything. Now she wants desperately to make it out of each mission alive so that she can spend one more night climbing into the younger woman's window, curling up with her beneath the blankets on the bed and savoring the feeling of closeness. The way that Yennefer looks at her and touches her makes her feel cared for. Like she's not broken or a placeholder until someone better comes along, but instead like Yennefer sees her—flaws and all—and still wants her. 

The first night that she'd let Yennefer touch her she'd thought that she might shake apart from the nerves and fear coursing through her. She would have borne the other woman's rejection or frustration, though it would have crushed her to disappoint her, but she never could have imagined the infinite tenderness with which Yennefer had touched her, soothing wounds Tissaia hadn't even consciously known she had. She thinks she could spend the rest of her life trying to reciprocate even a fraction of the love and affection Yennefer has given her, and she would still come up woefully short.

That doesn't mean she intends not to try, however, and she's debating what she might be able to do to surprise Yennefer when she sees her next when she hears a commotion at the entrance of the caves. She frowns and heads in that direction, the sense of foreboding in her stomach growing tenfold when she gets close enough to see Rita standing and talking to Sabrina and Triss. 

"What's going on?"

They all look up when she speaks, and the look on their faces is enough to tell her that it's bad. 

_Please don't let it be Yennefer_ , she begs silently, even though she already knows that's the only possible answer. Rita is the one who steps forward and meets her eyes, reaching out to place a steadying hand on Tissaia's upper arm.

"There's news from the town." A terse nod instructs her to continue, and she bites her lip before she says, "The Brotherhood have taken Yennefer hostage."

The words are like a bullet to her chest, forcing the air from her lungs and making the world spin around her. Tissaia focuses on the fact that Rita said _hostage_ , because hostage means that at least they haven't killed Yennefer outright. She can try to fix being taken hostage; she can't fix being dead. "When?"

"This morning," Rita says. "They have a pyre erected on the edge of town." 

Every cell in Tissaia's body is screaming at her to go, to save Yennefer, to make the Brotherhood pay. The thought of Yennefer being taken and waking up on a _pyre_ guts her in a way she's never experienced before. She thinks she understands, now, what the scholars and poets meant when they likened being in love to having your heart exist outside of your body. Yennefer is all that matters to her, and the knowledge that the younger woman is out there—alone, likely terrified, possibly injured—makes it hard to breathe. 

"I have to go," she mutters, trying and failing to wrench her arm away so she can _do something_.

"Tissaia." Triss has come up to stand next to her and is looking at her with beseeching eyes. "This is a trap—you know it is. The only reason they've taken her is to get to you. If you go riding into town without a plan, you'll be giving them exactly what they want."

"I don't care," Tissaia snaps. Her skin is hot and prickling under her clothes, and her throat feels tight as she forces the words out. "Fuck the Brotherhood and what they want, I can't leave Yennefer there."

"You're no use to Yennefer if you're dead," Rita says, her fingers digging into Tissaia's bicep as she holds her back. "You need to take a deep breath and think about what you're going to do. And then you're going to tell us what the plan is, and we'll go get her together—but we're not going to rush in and end up dead just because you're thinking with your heart instead of your brain."

It's the closest thing to a rebuke she's ever gotten from one of her girls, and it's enough to jar Tissaia out of the panicked thoughts racing through her brain. Part of her still wants to argue, to fight back and tell them both that they don't _understand_ , that Yennefer is the first thing she's ever had that makes her feel truly alive, but then Triss meets her eyes.

"We'll get her back." There's a thread of steel under the curly-haired bandit's words that Tissaia has never heard before. The younger woman looks at her evenly. "Any one of us would die for you, Tissaia—or for your happiness. Lord knows you've sacrificed enough for all of us over the years to deserve something for yourself. All we're saying is that we need to have a plan before we go to get her."

The last remnants of fight bleed from Tissaia's body at the words and her shoulders slump. Tears rise in the corners of her eyes at the thought of what she's asking Triss and Rita and the others to risk for her—because this is decidedly personal. There's no larger agenda here, no way to pass this off as being about the greater good. This is purely about saving someone who is important to Tissaia, even if it means she has to put herself in harm's way to do it.

She takes a few slow breaths to try to wrangle her emotions back under control. When she's confident that she's not going to spontaneously burst into tears or go sprinting out of the caves to try to find Yennefer, she looks up and sees the others watching her patiently. Tissaia purses her lips as she thinks, the beginnings of a plan starting to take shape in her mind.

"All right," she says, once she's worked out what will give them all the best shot at making it out of this alive. "Here's what we'll do."

###

Yennefer has made abysmal progress at slipping the ropes on her wrists in spite of her best efforts. Every time someone from the Brotherhood glances her way she has to stop what she's doing and look innocent—well, what she's actually going for is "half-conscious" since she figures they're more likely to underestimate her if they don't see her as much of a threat. Unfortunately, she really _isn't_ a threat given the fact that whoever tied her up apparently took their job a little too seriously. 

She pauses again when Stregobor straightens his shoulders and moves out to face the small crowd of onlookers who have gathered. Nobody will meet her eyes, and Yennefer silently curses each and every one of them for being willing to stand by and let this happen. Half of these people have actively benefitted from Tissaia's approach to wealth redistribution, and yet here they are, milling about like brainless cattle and watching a murder about to happen with nary a protest. If she manages to get out of this alive, she makes a mental note to give them all a piece of her mind later.

"We're gathered here today to ensure that injustice in this town is not allowed to go unchecked!" Stregobor shouts. Yennefer rolls her eyes at the blustering words. Everyone knows this isn't what it's about at all; this is a personal vendetta against Tissaia, nothing more. She's heard that there is nothing more dangerous than a weak man with a bruised ego, and she's beginning to believe that.

"This woman has knowingly aided a wanted fugitive," Stregobor continues, "And now she must pay for her crimes!"

He waves Carduin over and they both come towards her. Yennefer's stomach drops when she sees the torch Carduin brings with him. She holds perfectly still as they draw nearer and tries to meet Carduin's eyes.

"You don't have to do this," she says, "I'm innocent, you're making a terrible mistake—"

But Carduin doesn't look at her, just keeps his eyes trained on the ground as he walks up to the post. He pauses, torch dangling from his hand and the lit end crackling mere inches form the kindling at the base of the post, and Yennefer allows herself to hope for the briefest of seconds, but then Stregobor comes up next to Carduin and says, "Do it," and the torch drops onto the kindling with a muffled _thunk_.

The kindling catches instantly. Yennefer can only watch as the flames begin to spread across the smaller twigs and straw, steadily climbing higher until they lick at the larger logs at the base of the post. She thinks there's maybe five minutes, ten at the most, before the fire grows enough to start to hurt her with its heat. 

Panic crawls up the back of her throat and she starts to twist her hands behind the post in earnest. The rope is cutting into her wrists now, but the pain barely registers. Some primal part of her brain has kicked into overdrive at the sight of the flames inching their way closer to her. She's heard of animals gnawing off a paw or leg when it's caught in a trap in order to escape, and she'd always thought it was admirable to have that kind of commitment. But now that she's in the situation herself, she realizes that it's not about commitment. It's not even a conscious thought. The only thing in her brain is the blare of _EscapeEscapeEscape_ , and there's no room for anything else. If it was as easy as twisting her head and using her teeth to tear tendons and flesh enough to slip free from her bindings, she would do it in a heartbeat. 

But it's not that simple. The rope has given a little bit but not quite enough to be able to get a hand loose. She's not sure if she can actually dislocate a thumb in spite of her earlier thought about it, and with every second that passes she's more and more aware of the black smoke rising around her. Even if the flames don't reach her, the smoke inhalation will be more than enough to kill her, and the thought spurs her to action.

She digs her nails into her palms as hard as she can until they pierce the skin, and then she presses even harder. The sting is good. It grounds her, gives her something to focus on besides the way she's starting to feel light-headed and woozy. When she can feel damp blood coating the inside of her palms she begins to twist her hands again, smearing it across her wrists. It's still tight, but the added slip from the blood gives her the barest margin of added wiggle room under the rope—

Her left hand slides free with a fresh jolt of pain that makes her see stars for a second, but she blinks hard to clear them away. She tries to keep her face impassive even though she's not sure anyone is even paying attention to her at this point—the entirety of the Brotherhood is staring out at the outskirts of the town waiting for the bandits to appear. But she can't afford to take any chances. She maneuvers her hands as subtly as she can, tugging the rope until it loosens around her right wrist and she's able to carefully pull it free. 

She's debating her next move when she sees it—a plume of dust moving fast across the horizon in their direction. Her heart leaps into her throat and she wonders if it's Tissaia.

It's a stupid thought. Of _course_ it's Tissaia, there is literally nobody else it could be. She squints to try to see through the smoke (because oh yeah, she's still tied to a post that is seconds away from being _on fire_ ) and can just barely make out several people on horseback approaching at speed. They're still too far away for her to try to guess which one is Tissaia, but her heart warms at the knowledge that the bandit is coming to save her.

"Don't scream."

The words are breathed into her ear and Yennefer barely manages to bite back the instinctive yelp of surprise at someone sneaking up on her like that, especially given the current circumstances. But then the voice registers and she breathes out, "Tissaia!"

A finger brushes along her wrists and she can hear the smile in Tissaia's voice as the bandit murmurs, "I thought you might need saving, but it seems you already have things well under control."

Gunfire erupts and Yennefer's eyes jerk back to where she can now make out the rest of the bandits riding in towards the Brotherhood, drawing their full attention. Between that and the shroud of the smoke rapidly rising around the post nobody has noticed Tissaia yet, but it's only a matter of time.

"What are we going to do?" Yennefer hisses, debating whether it's a good idea to dive for cover or not. The decision is made for her when a shout comes from behind them. She spins and see a member of the Brotherhood standing there staring at them, waving his arms as he frantically tries to get the attention of the others. He's got his gun out and is raising it to aim at Tissaia, and Yennefer acts without thinking. 

She grabs one of Tissaia's guns from its holster and shoots twice. The first bullet goes wide and misses him entirely, but the second hits him squarely in the chest and causes his own shot to miss its intended target in Tissaia's back.

The man drops to the ground and Yennefer looks around quickly to make sure nobody else is sneaking up on them. Shouts are coming towards them, other male voices that she's sure belong to the Brotherhood, but the smoke and dust is enough of a shield that she can't see them—and they can't see her and Tissaia either.

"Well," Tissaia comments dryly, looking both humored and also intrigued, "We may make a bandit out of you yet with reflexes like that." Yennefer turns to face the smaller woman fully and raises a hand to cup her cheek, relishing in the smooth, warm skin under her palm. She can't resist leaning in to kiss her softly, and Tissaia immediately melts into her. Teeth nip at her bottom lip and then Tissaia is pulling back, resting her forehead against Yennefer's and muttering, "Don't ever scare me like that again."

"I'll do my best," Yennefer says with a faint smirk. She can't make any promises, especially as they aren't out of their current predicament just yet, but having more near-death experiences is definitely not high on her list of things to do.

"Good," Tissaia replies, punctuating the word with another kiss. Another shout sounds nearby, closer than the last one, followed by a burst of gunfire seems to bring her fully back to the present situation and she arches an eyebrow at Yennefer. "Keep the gun. Triss and the rest are under orders not to pull their fire, so we should be able to end this shortly."

Yennefer blinks, taken aback at hearing that Tissaia has okayed shooting to kill. "What changed?"

Tissaia purses her lips and shrugs unapologetically. 

"They took you. Now try not to jump in front of any bullets until this is over, please."

She turns and starts to leave, but Yennefer reaches out and catches her by the wrist, yanking her back into a searing kiss. The knowledge that Tissaia came for her, is willing to burn everyone and everything to the ground for _her_ , heats her from the inside out. When she breaks the kiss, Yennefer grins cheekily when she sees the dark flush spreading across Tissaia's cheeks. "Be safe," she says, and the bandit nods once and then disappears into the smoke.

Yennefer heads in the approximate direction of where she thinks a few nearby buildings are. She has no illusions about being some sort of sharpshooter, in spite of her success at hitting the Brotherhood member who had been about to shoot Tissaia. She's more of a liability than anything if she runs into the middle of what sounds like a vicious battle, but if she can find some cover she can at least try to keep an eye out for opportunities to help.

She nearly runs into the side of a building through the thick haze hanging in the air, and she moves along it stealthily until she's able to get a clearer view of what's going on.

The Brotherhood are spaced out across the plaza and shooting wildly as the bandits ride through, wheeling and galloping at speed. A few bodies are already strewn about the ground, though they all look to be members of the Brotherhood, and the blood soaking into the dirt around them looks almost black in the dusky light. 

Yennefer scans the area for ways to be of use. She could try to sneak up behind one of the men with the Brotherhood to try to even the odds a little, but she doesn't want to inadvertently get in the way. 

She's distracted from her internal debate of whether to stay put or get involved by a bandit riding past with a whoop. There's a flash of long blonde hair tied and a series of rapid-fire gunshots, and Yennefer thinks it has to be Sabrina. They've brokered a sort of truce between them in spite of the blonde's intense distrust when she first found Yennefer in the woods looking for their hideout, and she's probably the only one brash enough to ride straight down the middle of the plaza like that. 

It's an effective tactic despite the danger—Yennefer counts three Brotherhood men that go down and don't get back up as Sabrina gallops past them and fires with devastating accuracy. As she's approaching the fourth, however, a bullet—perhaps stray, perhaps intentional—embeds itself in her horse's shoulder and the animal goes down with a scream. Sabrina is thrown from the saddle and hits the ground hard, and Yennefer takes a step towards the blonde's still form without realizing it. 

A flash of movement catches her eye and she sees the fourth Brotherhood member that Sabrina had been aiming for leaving his cover and striding towards the blonde. His gun is drawn and Yennefer freezes. She can't outrun a bullet, and he'll be to Sabrina in mere seconds. She feels the weight of Tissaia's gun in her hand, the metal warm from her grip, and says a silent prayer as she lifts it and aims carefully. 

She squeezes the trigger and the gun jumps a little, and for one heartstopping moment Yennefer thinks she's missed and that her ineptitude is going to result in Sabrina dying. But then the man stumbles and drops to his knees, his gun falling away as his fingers scrabble at his stomach. Yennefer glances around to make sure she's not about to expose herself to any other Brotherhood members and then sprints forward, grabbing his pistol off the ground just in case he gets any ideas. 

Now that she's closer she can see that it's Geoffrey, an older member of the Brotherhood. She's heard more than a few unpleasant rumors about him from other townsfolk and the bandits, and she feels a certain level of dark satisfaction when he groans and tries to crawl away from her. She ignores him in favor of dropping to her knees beside Sabrina, though, turning the blonde over and brushing stray hairs away from her face. 

"Sabrina? Can you hear me?"

Blue eyes open slowly, but Yennefer breathes a sigh of relief that at least the woman isn't dead. 

"Come on," she mutters, grabbing Sabrina and hauling her half-upright. "We've got to get out of the plaza or the next bullet might hit you and not your horse."

She stumbles a little under the blonde's weight but manages to get them both back to the relative safety of the building. Sabrina grunts as she slides to the ground and presses her hands to her face. 

"You going to make it?" Yennefer asks, keeping one eye on the plaza.

"I'll live," Sabrina grumbles. There's a pause, and then a much quieter, "Thank you." Yennefer waves the gratitude off. None of the bandits would be here, putting their lives at risk, if it wasn't for her. The least she can do is try not to let any of them die.

True to Tissaia's word, the battle seems to be winding down. Yennefer can't see any Brotherhood members that are still alive from her current vantage point (barring Geoffrey, who may or may not have died yet), and the gunfire comes in sporadic bursts now, rather than the near-constant cacophony of the past several minutes. 

She knows she should probably wait here with Sabrina until she receives some sort of all-clear, but she can't stand by if there's a chance that she might be able to help.

"Here," she says, kneeling and pressing Geoffrey's gun into Sabrina's hand. "Take this. I'm going to go see if the others need any help."

Sabrina rolls her eyes but her fingers curl around the gun and she nods. "If you get yourself killed Tissaia is going to murder me, and then I'll come kill you again."

"Noted," Yennefer replies with a wry smile. She moves cautiously across the plaza in the direction of the faint voices she can hear. She's halfway there when she hears a short cry and sees Triss barreling towards Sabrina's downed horse.

"Sabrina!" The curly-haired bandit drops to her knees by and Yennefer hurries over. 

"She's fine, I moved her over there by one of the buildings," she says soothingly. Triss practically tackles her into a hug and whispers, "Thank you," as Yennefer nods awkwardly. 

"Tissaia and the others are by the jail," she says. "Stregobor has locked himself inside, but the rest of the Brotherhood are either dead or surrendered."

Triss heads to check on Sabrina and Yennefer makes her way in the opposite direction towards the jail. The knot of anxiety in her chest loosens ever so slightly when she steps out of the haze and sees Tissaia standing in front of the building. There's a smear of dirt and blood across one cheek, but she's otherwise unharmed and Yennefer barely restrains herself from running to the smaller woman and kissing her senseless.

She settles for coming to a halt at Tissaia's side. "What are you going to do with him?" she asks, gesturing at the jail. There are muffled sounds coming from inside and Tissaia sighs.

"He's asked to duel me," she replies. "We'll commence as soon as he's ready."

Yennefer's heart freezes at the bandit's words. She understands that Tissaia likely feels honor-bound to accept Stregobor's demand for a duel, but no good can possibly come of it. The only reason the man would request it in the first place is if he thought it would benefit him somehow, and there is no way that will end well for Tissaia.

Tissaia seems to sense Yennefer's fear and she reaches out and places a reassuring hand on the younger woman's arm. "It will be fine, Yennefer. Trust me." 

And every ounce of Yennefer's being wants to argue, wants to protest that they should just shoot Stregobor now and be done with him, but she can't say no to the soft blue eyes watching her intently. She trusts Tissaia more than anyone else alive or dead, and she prays that she doesn't regret this decision as she nods and slides her hand down to squeeze Tissaia's before they separate.

The door to the jail swings open a few moments later and Stregobor strides out, the image of arrogance. His clothes are dusty and his hat is nowhere to be seen, but he's got his guns holstered around his ample waist and his gaze is sharp as he looks over at Tissaia and Yennefer. "I should have known there was something wrong with you, girl," he snarls at Yennefer, his lip curling. Tissaia takes a half-step in between them and meets his eyes evenly.

"I have agreed to your duel for the sake of my own honor. But if you so much as think to threaten her, you will find I am not nearly so accommodating."

The words hang in the air for several seconds before Stregobor scoffs and walks away, heading past the other bandits to get to a space large enough for a duel. Yennefer brushes her fingers along Tissaia's wrist and doesn't hesitate before stepping close enough to kiss the smaller woman soundly. She figures all of the bandits already know about the two of them anyways, and she has no intention of staying in this town after everything that's happened so it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. And besides, she wants to remind Tissaia of all the reasons why she had better come out of the duel as the victor.

It doesn't last nearly long enough, and Yennefer has to bite back a whine when Tissaia breaks the kiss and looks at her with such deep emotion that it steals her breath away.

"Trust me," the smaller woman repeats, and then she's gone, walking away to meet Stregobor.

There are no onlookers to worry about besides the bandits, the townspeople apparently having decided to run for cover when the shooting started, so Yennefer is easily able to position herself to keep an eye on Stregobor. He and Tissaia turn and face away from each other back to back and then begin to walk. Yennefer counts the paces, her stomach twisting anxiously. She's never seen a duel in person like this before. It's simple in theory—when they reach thirty paces each, they'll both turn and fire a single shot. But knowing that a single misstep could result in Tissaia dying makes every step the bandit takes feels like an impossibly loud drumroll building the tension higher and higher until Yennefer thinks she might crawl out of her skin.

She keeps her eyes glued to Stregobor, not trusting him to abide by the rules. They're nearing the end, 24 paces, 25—

And then she sees him start to turn far too early. He meets her eyes as he pivots, a dark smile painting his lips as he raises his weapon. Yennefer feels like the world is moving in slow motion around her as she opens her mouth, already knowing she won't be able to warn Tissaia in time.

A gunshot splits the silence, and time stops as Yennefer's head snaps around to look at Tissaia, a gut-wrenching cry bubbling in her chest as she braces to see a bloom of red spreading across the bandit's back.

Instead, she sees Tissaia standing confidently facing Stregobor, a thin curl of smoke rising from the barrel of her gun—which is leveled at the sheriff. Yennefer's jaw drops and she spins back to look at Stregobor. The man is standing stock-still, his gun half-raised. There's an expression of abject confusion on his face, and it takes a second for Yennefer to see the bloodstain that is slowly spreading across his chest directly over his heart. He sits down heavily in the dust, mouth opening and closing silently, and then he slowly topples over backwards and doesn't move again.

The crunch of boots on dirt attracts Yennefer's attention and she glances up to see Tissaia walking purposefully towards Stregobor. When the bandit reaches his body, she kicks his gun out of his hand and then kneels, pressing her fingers to his throat. She stands back up after a long pause and turns to face the rest of the bandits.

"It's done."

A rush of relief courses through Yennefer like a tidal wave and she slumps at the knowledge that this is really over, and that Tissaia is safe. The smaller woman approaches her slowly, exhaustion clear on her face even as she offers a tentative smile. Yennefer is torn between wanting to kiss Tissaia senseless and yelling at her for scaring her like that. She settles for a bit of both, reaching out to yank Tissaia close enough to kiss for a second before pulling back and murmuring, "You knew he was going to cheat that whole time, didn't you?"

Tissaia smirks a little. "I believe it's common knowledge that the only people with less integrity than bandits are law enforcement." Yennefer scoffs but pulls her in for another kiss, bringing her hands up to cradle the smaller woman's cheeks. Their lips slide together and the unique taste that is all Tissaia eases the last remnants of worry from Yennefer's chest until she's practically melting into the bandit.

"I think we could both do with fewer near-death experiences moving forward, mm?" she says with a quiet laugh when she finally pulls back. Blue eyes meet her own with a sparkle of amusement, and Tissaia nods.

"I think you may be right."

###

"Come inside, darling, it's getting cold."

Yennefer hums as arms encircle her waist from behind, the words murmured against her ear. Tissaia's hands rest on top of her stomach and Yennefer laces her fingers over the top of them, savoring the sensation of the smaller woman being pressed along the length of her back. 

There's a heavy snowfall covering the pine trees outside of their cabin, and the moonlight is casting shimmering shadows across the winter landscape. She'd originally come outside with the intent of only looking long enough to appreciate the beauty of the mountains, but she'd gotten lost in her thoughts and hadn't noticed the time passing.

"What are you thinking about so hard out here?" Tissaia asks, dropping a soft kiss to the side of Yennefer's neck. The younger woman smiles at the gesture and relaxes further into the embrace.

"Just how lucky I am to be here, to have this life with you." It's the truth. It's been just over a year since the final showdown between the Brotherhood and the bandits, and in that time they've created something altogether new for themselves. The cabin in the mountains that they'd dreamed of all those nights ago had become a reality, and the quiet life has suited them both surprisingly well. 

Rita took over leadership of the bandits at Tissaia's request, and the group has managed to keep things in the town running smoothly. A man by the name of Geralt had been sent to take over as sheriff of the town shortly after news of the Brotherhood's demise spread, but he was surprisingly amenable to the idea of working alongside the bandits rather than against them. Yennefer has only met him a handful of times and finds him a bit odd, all monosyllabic grunts and unusually long hair for a man, but he'd seemed like a decent enough sort. 

These days most of Yennefer's waking hours are spent on the daily tasks needed to keep their home comfortable—ensuring they've got enough wood brought in to dry by the stove, tending the small flock of chickens. She usually leaves the cooking to Tissaia after a few ill-fated attempts that nearly smoked them out of the cabin, though she's secretly been trying to watch what the smaller woman does so that hopefully someday she can make a meal without burning their home down. 

When their chores are done, or on days when they can't be bothered to do more than the bare minimum, they spend hours curled together by the fire, Tissaia reading a book with her feet propped on Yennefer's lap. They've spent whole days tangled together in bed, the warm weight of the quilts pressing down on them and making it feel as if they've somehow created a world that is all their own.

It's nauseatingly domestic, and it's also more perfect than Yennefer ever could have imagined. She's sure at some point they'll both want to go back to being around other people and being involved in broader society, but for the immediate future she thinks she's quite content to stay right where they are. Every morning that she wakes up to the sight of a sleepy Tissaia nestled in bed next to her she says a fresh thanks to the universe for gifting her this chance to be with the woman she loves, and she treasures each new moment more than the last.

"When did you turn into such a hopeless romantic?" Tissaia asks teasingly, and Yennefer shrugs. 

"I was powerless against your bandit charms."

A quiet snort comes from Tissaia and they lapse into silence, just enjoying each other's company and the scenery in front of them. Eventually Tissaia speaks again, a note of awe in her voice. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Yennefer smiles and twists in the smaller woman's arms so that she can press a sweet kiss to her cheek. "Not nearly as beautiful as you."

"Sweet talker." Tissaia swats at her gently, but the twitch of her lips quickly gives way to a fond smile. "I had no idea you were such an incorrigible flirt when I met you."

"That's because you were doing enough wooing for the both of us," Yennefer says with a smirk. Tissaia shrugs unrepentantly.

"I don't recall you protesting."

Yennefer laughs, because she can't even fathom the idea of not wanting Tissaia, of not being thrilled with the smaller woman's attentions. "No," she agrees, turning so that she's fully facing Tissaia, "I most certainly wasn't protesting."

She dips her head to kiss Tissaia properly, the sweet press of their lips slowly building heat as Tissaia arches up into her. At the first brush of the smaller woman's tongue against her own, a groan bubbles up in Yennefer's chest and she nips at Tissaia's lower lip.

"Take me inside," she murmurs, and Tissaia's eyes sparkle with delight.

"I would love nothing more, my dear."

And as she allows Tissaia to drag her inside and practically throw her onto the bed, the blankets warm and soft against her skin, Yennefer thinks that while this is not like anything she'd ever imagined for her life, it's everything she could ever want and then some. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to NovakFan for the prompt, to xxTORCHxx for the beautiful cover art, and to BrazenedMinstrel for the gorgeous theme! You all (and everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented) are the best <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, more to come! (how much still to come idk, but there will be another few chapters at least) :)


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